


The Way Home

by emwebb17



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emwebb17/pseuds/emwebb17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Firefly inspired universe.  A ragtag crew of outcasts inadvertently discovers the origins of their people and a way back to their original home--Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Background

In 2201 an over-heated, over-farmed, over-polluted, over-used Earth is no longer capable of supporting the human race.  Forced to abandon the only home they know, 99% of the population boards 1077 ships built either independently or jointly by every country on the dying planet.  Due to the varying levels of technology and knowledge available to the building countries, not all the ships were capable of making it to the pre-determined destination.  For decades, astronomers worldwide sought the heavens for a solar system that had a planet that was even close to supporting human habitation.  At length, a planet found in the farther reaches of the Bader-Polscythe Telescope’s detection capabilities seemed to be the only viable candidate.  All 304 countries and their territories and dependencies attempted to make the journey, with a small group of humans staying behind believing that with a minimal human presence the world would heal itself.  108 vessels tried to passenger load before launching to space.  107 never made it past atmosphere, exploding and incinerating all its occupants.  The one vessel that made it up knocked out its engine, leaving the people onboard trapped, with no way back to earth and nowhere to go but to quietly circle the planet, slowly declining in orbit until it eventually fell back to earth…long after all its occupants died of thirst.  The remaining vessels were split into three groups.  423 ships plotted a course for their new home using conventional engines, all the money and research for their journey being invested in cryostasis technology.  The slow moving vessels never made it to the destination.  Most malfunctioned after several decades and killed all their occupants through electrocution, or starvation for those who survived their de-thawing but had no sustenance.  A few operated under a system of keeping a skeleton crew awake and maintaining the ship while rotating shifts.  After a few hundred years, the system broke down and the ships followed.  One or two were taken out by crossing an asteroid’s path by happenstance.  The second group of 333 vessels attempted to travel at near light speeds.  Most of these vessels burned up and exploded upon reaching top speed.  The few that maintained speed tried to survive by living and breeding as usual in order to survive the millennia it would take to reach humanity’s new home.  The artificial farms they created failed and their water purifier broke down.  Most people on those ships died of starvation.  A couple of the ships broke down after a while, stranding the people in space until they succumbed to failed technology.  113 ships had developed the technology to warp space in order to cover vast distances nearly instantaneously.  Of the four countries that had this technology, one had not refined it well enough and the ships slowly disintegrated as they traveled until there was nothing left.  The three remaining countries could not possibly calculate the math necessary to perform perfectly on untested equipment, and therefore they were nervous that their power sources would not be able to produce more than one or two space and temporal displacements, or “folds” as the method of travel would eventually be called.  As such the engineers and physicists argued back and forth and finally decided that overshooting would be better than undershooting.  And overshoot they did.  Many ships wound up folding through stars that destroyed them instantaneously.  Those that survived the journey found that they had gone so far past their target, that they were unable to recognize any of the stars or planets or clouds that now surrounded them.  After some debate, some ships decided that they hadn’t gone far enough and folded again.  The rest attempted to go back to Earth to retry a fold from the point of origin.  None of the ships ever found their way back to Earth or any part of space that was remotely familiar.  Some of the ships folded until they ran out of power and food, eventually resulting in the demise of their passengers.  17 ships that attempted to stay together folded again and again, draining the ships of power, covering less and less distance.  Shortly before these ships achieved the same fate as their sister ships, they came across what they would eventually call the Homestead Galaxy.  A galaxy unlike any that earth’s inhabitants had ever observed or conceived of.  Twelve stars circled closely together, all at different stages of life and mass…and yet at the perfect distance that they balanced each other out so as to create twelve solar systems within 1.7 light years at the minimum and 122 light years at the maximum apart.  In the future, once the science of folding was perfected, that would equate from three days to six months folding.  In the mean time, the seventeen ships with 100,000 passengers apiece limped to one of the three habitable planets in what would come to be known as the Home Plate Solar System.  It was the third smallest of the solar systems, but the star that gave the planets life was the closest to the Sun they had left back in the Milky Way.  The planet the 17 ships landed on was so remarkably similar to Earth, that for days the people went around searching for the ruins of their cities, afraid that they had somehow not traveled through space, but merely distorted time and wound up right on their own doorstep, only eons from when they had left it.  However, the strangely orbiting solar systems and bizarre creatures on the planet left them with little doubt that they were far, far away from Earth.  Thousands of people fell ill after being exposed to the foreign pathogens of the new world.  The entire population was reduced by half before scientists were able to create vaccines and rudimentary drugs to combat the multiple epidemics.  For a thousand years the people struggled to cut a new life on the new planet…1/5 the size of the original Earth.  Eventually, in order to avoid the same pitfalls they experienced on Earth, settlers moved out to the other two planets in the Home Plate Solar System.  And with more time, the other solar systems were explored and colonized.  No matter which planet they went to, while covered with water and vegetation and different and amazing creatures, no higher life forms were found.  They found intelligent creatures, but never any even so far evolved as a chimp.  Most of the livestock brought with them flourished, but only two species on two separate planets were ever capable of crossbreeding with the native fauna.  And even though the names of the surviving countries that made it to the Homestead Galaxy were long since forgotten, human nature won out and war and strife broke out among the divided people.  When the dust and smoke cleared and the blood and tears were washed away, the power that rose up as victors called themselves The Clean Source, their members The Antecedents.  They purported that they were the only true Earthlings, having maintained pure blood by not breeding with the natives.  Record keeping had not been the greatest in the early decades and the knowledge that _everyone_ was from Earth was lost—or intentionally forgotten.  The Clean Source took over the Home Plate Solar System and forced the rest of the rabble to the outer systems and controlled them by controlling the technology and information they had access to.  While not truly understanding the information left behind on the relic ships from the first settlers, they did understand that there were certain things that would help them find their way home if they ever tried to do so.  Afraid of losing the knowledge, like so much that had been lost in the war, The Clean Source declared that the names of the landmarks home be the only names used for any future children so that they would always be known to the people.  The constellations as seen from earth were used for the Unpure since they would be the least useful for finding their way home.  The names of stars known to be relatively close to the original home galaxy and solar system were used for The Clean Source.  And the names of the celestial bodies found within their very own home solar system were reserved for the royal family that was established from the bloodline of the most ruthless and ambitious of The Clean Source.  Decades passed in an unsteady peace, and as was feared, war broke out again.  The first war had lasted nearly a century.  The Clean Source knew that this could not happen again for that would undermine their authority and claim to Purity.  And it was also possible that after another hundred years, they might not come out on top.  So, by using brutal and inhumane methods they destroyed not only the soldiers but the civilians as well—both those who were sympathetic to the insurgents and those that were loyal to the crown.  In a mere 18 months all life and independence were squashed out of the humans of the Homestead Galaxy.  Antecedents were assigned on three year tour of duties to all cities, townships, settlements, and space-faring ships in the Outer Systems.  For the Outer Systems, a very reserved and simple life was scratched out of the earth.  But simplicity itself can be enough to make one happy—as the temporarily displaced Antecedents learned as they lived amongst the Unpure.  Life in the Home Plate Solar System was very political and conniving and difficult to survive in without constantly making new alliances and stabbing your former allies in the back.  For those from the very far reaches of the Outer Systems, they had barely been aware of the machinations taking place in the Inner Systems.  Until they were all forced to board an Antecedent and abide by rules dictating registrations at the Inner Systems and occasionally being commandeered and/or commanded to run errands for the royalty and The Clean Source.  Those that could not adjust were killed and then replaced.  And then there were those that found a way to continue the life they had led before, merely humoring those who did their best to rule over them.  This is a story of such a group of people, the lives they led, the adventures they experienced, and the knowledge they uncovered that helped to return seven thousand years of missing humanity to their original home world.


	2. Prologue

 

“Orion!  Orion!  Stand down!  Shut the fuck up!”

Catching the diminutive Orion as he was hurled over a meter across the floor from a powerful blow by an Antecedent caused Solaris Req to stumble back just enough that the strike aimed for his head missed by about half a centimeter.

“Watch your mouth around Purity!  You talk out of your place again and the fine is coming out of your ass!”

Solaris kept a hold of Orion and backed up a couple steps.  He needed the moment of respite to evaluate his situation.  It was amazing how calm, ordinary conditions could so quickly spiral into violent misunderstandings.  And even more amazing was how often that happened to him.  Just twenty minutes ago he had been preparing for a peaceful, compliant boarding by a Clean Source craft, and now he was hanging onto one half of what was left of his crew.

Solaris Req owned a two atmosphere-two vacuum-one folding engine space craft that had seen its original commission at the beginning of the Ninety-Seven Years War.  Since its service as a military warship, it had been outfitted as a passenger vessel, a livestock transportation carrier, and finally a mercantile ship.  It was an ugly, abused thing that regularly had parts falling off and breaking down, but it had been his home for close to eleven years now.  At 31 and with years of Outer System life to harden him into a skeleton wrapped mostly in muscle, he was definitely a match for the three Clean Source soldiers staring him down—in a physical contest.  But they had guns.  He had a gun too—a jury-rigged scrap of metal that hung heavily from the belt at his waist.  The soldiers hadn’t thought to disarm him because they didn’t feel the gun was a threat.  It wasn’t a real weapon after all.  Merely a toy that shot out sparks and bits and pieces of debris.  What all pampered Clean Source soldiers never realized was that unless a medic was right handy, a piece of lead tearing through a person’s body could do some real damage.  And a very well aimed piece of lead at heart or head would snuff out anybody’s light, medic or no medic.  But even if Solaris could get the gun out and up before they raised their weapons, they would beat him to the draw.  His weapon required the thought to shoot to travel from his brain, down his arm, and to the finger on the trigger.  The soldiers simply had to think it, and their weapon would fire.  The trigger mechanism was hard wired into their cerebral cortex and therefore would fire instantly.  The original prototypes had been such colossal failures that the project had nearly been scrapped.  There had been quite a few accidental killings as fleeting, mostly unmeant homicidal thoughts crossed people’s minds.  It had taken a few years to refine the software to be able to filter the difference between passing thoughts and a real intent to kill.  But they worked mighty handily now.

Solaris inhaled slowly and discreetly.  Clean Source soldiers were like wild animals: you couldn’t show them fear.  His ass was under a temporary reprieve from paying the “fine” it owed due to the soldiers’ commanding officer clunking into his cargo bay.  The over-decorated bureaucrat (for that’s all non-enlisted members of the military were) started berating the soldiers for taking so long to make a simple registration check, at which time they began relating the harrowing tale of the unruly, lawless crew they had found and been forced to subdue (murder) in order to maintain control.  Solaris’ only real hope was that they would argue so long that they would become bored and simply leave.  He would be able to outwait them—even with Orion fighting with all his might to break free and attack the soldiers.  Orion would tire before he would.  Only one arm was doing all the work to restrain him forcibly—the other was being used to clamp a hand over his mouth—but that was enough.  As he felt the small man writhing and twisting in his unmovable grasp, Solaris reflected that Orion hadn’t grown all that much since he’d met him.

Solaris left his home in the Inner Systems when he was eighteen—nowhere near the twenty years of age he needed to be a legal adult.  He met the ten year old Orion two years later.  Quite by accident he stumbled across the child on one of the barely habitable planets in the Resort System—the largest of the twelve circling solar systems in the Homestead Galaxy.  It was also the second farthest out from the center.  It was where the poorest and the unclean rabble lived.  It was where the Inner Systems got their source of “charitable labor.”  A program started even before The Clean Source took power, Charitable Labor was the closest thing the Homestead Galaxy had to a welfare system.  Orphans (or those assumed or passed off to be orphans) were taken from the backwater planets of the Outer Systems and sold as indentured servants to the wealthy of the Inner Systems.  The first decade or so it actually worked.  Homeless, starving children were given food, shelter, education and some knowledge of a skill.  When they reached the age of twenty, they were free to pursue jobs and lives either on the planet they had grown up on or return to their original world.  The problem probably started when some of the children chose to remain with the family they served and continue to serve them—it was just easier that way.  Some owners decided to persuade their indentured servants to stay with them.  Some insisted.  It wasn’t long after that that virtually no grown children from the Charitable Labor program left their “sponsors.”  Once The Clean Source took over, the children were finally called what they were: slaves.  A law was passed that anyone with the means to support his family first and any other mouths in addition were allowed to own slaves.  But of course, slaves could only be those who were deemed to be orphans and would otherwise die without being taken in by a family.  While perhaps not pure intentions, they were at least good in the beginning—and led to kidnappings and the disposal of unwanted or illegitimate children.

Solaris had considered selling Orion when he saw him: dirty, half-starved, uneducated, and a perfect candidate for Charitable Labor.  But under that dirt Solaris could see a slim body and a pretty face.  He’d be sold on the Home Plate System’s planets as a sex slave.  Solaris figured the child would have a better life struggling and eventually dying out here in the wilds.  Sheer boredom had made him see what he could get the boy to do for a piece of bread.  The answer was, “not much.”  The little beast had more pride than anyone he’d ever met in his life—and he’d met some pretty snotty people who thought mighty highly of themselves.  In the end Solaris had given him the bread for beating him in a staring competition.  He had left the child on the dirty street and went to see a man about a ship.

Three days later he was fueling The Way Home and negotiating with a woman named Lepus Lar to pilot his ship to the Midway System—the third largest system and sixth from the center—so that he would be able to hire a full-time pilot.  The Midway System was a bit of a misnomer—it _was_ the middle solar system of the Galaxy, but far closer to the center than the outer reaches.  There were, in fact, twelve systems in the galaxy, but the twelfth was so far out that hardly anybody ever went there and virtually no one lived out there.  The eleventh, the Resort Galaxy, was considered the edge of The Clean Source’s domain from where it originated in the smallest and most inner system, the Center System.  No one would ever accuse their ancestors of having overactive imaginations.

Solaris had that wry, passing thought as he nodded his head in agreement to Lepus’ terms.  He’d offered her a lot more money to stay in the Midway System or find her own way back, but she’d refused to budge on being brought directly back to the cesspool of a planet that was her home just as soon as he hired a pilot.  Solaris hated the Resort Galaxy and didn’t want to return to one of its miserable planets even for the five minutes it would take to kick her out at ten meters from the surface, but it was either that or try to find another temporary pilot.  And if he did that he would be stuck on Ormcef for two weeks during the No Launch order the planet would be under while it underwent its annual Inspection.  If he didn’t launch in one to two hours he would be trapped—and that was just enough time for Lepus to return home, pack a few belongings, and get back to the ship.  She returned right on schedule and marched on board, grumbling that they should have found a cook too.  The trip to the Midway System was going to take two months, one week, and nine days—and that was a long time to eat frozen dinners.  And breakfasts and lunches.  Solaris took no heed of her displeasure; a cook had been a part of the deal if she would find her own way home.  He was thumbprinting the final electronic release forms for the docking master when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.  The dirty street urchin he’d entertained himself with just three days before was walking up the gangway to his ship.  Solaris scratched his head and handed over the Smartcard with his thumbprint to the wizened, smelly skeleton that tried to pass itself off as a human.  The docking master scanned the microchip next to the ship’s registration number, the one under the skin of Solaris’ left wrist, and the Smartcard in his hands.  He raised his eyebrows as Solaris’ identity popped up on his Clipboard but did nothing more than say, “The ship is officially yours and you’re cleared for launch.”

“Thanks,” Solaris replied, wondering if that was the correct response.

He walked up the gangway of his new old ship and placed a hand on the control to close the doors.  The orphan was climbing a steel staircase that led from the cargo bay to some part of the ship Solaris hadn’t even looked at yet.

“Hey, kid.”

The boy paused and looked at him.

“You know, this ship is taking off.  For space.  And I’m not coming back here.”

“I’m not stupid,” was all the reply he got before Orion disappeared into the depths of the ship.

Solaris shrugged and closed the hatch.  The ship shuddered as the engines returned to life.  It was a good feeling to know the ground would be disappearing before too long and he would be unbound in the empty, silent safety of space.

From that moment on until about two years ago, his crew had changed pretty regularly every six months or so with the exception of Orion.  The kid stayed with him, learned the ship, learned the business of merchants, and frowned whenever Solaris suggested something that wasn’t particularly on the up and up of the law.  In nine years Orion knew the ship better than he did, knew the business better, and certainly knew how to deal with customers better.  There was nothing Solaris hated more than being dependent on someone, but he had become dependent on Orion.  Without doubt he could leave him and start his life again if he needed to, but he was content to be reliant on him.  It certainly made life easier.  The one thing he had learned from his father had been “Work smarter, not harder.”  Letting Orion do the bulk of the work was certainly easier, and it was also a good arrangement because he trusted Orion not to betray him.  He couldn’t say when that trust had developed between them, but it was there now.  And it had probably persisted because Solaris didn’t feel threatened by him.  Orion had appeared to stop growing at sixteen, the crown of his head not quite reaching the top of Solaris’ shoulder even if the former wore boots and latter went barefooted.  His face, though losing its babyishness, had stayed young, giving him the very deceptive appearance of naivety.  The slimness of his body hid the strength and grit of the muscles he’d developed while working a ship in the rough life of the Outer Systems.  Even if one knew better, Orion was the very picture of coveted youth and innocence.  But Solaris had no paternal or filial affection for him.  It was more akin to simple attachment.  He didn’t think he’d lay down his life for his first mate, but he would probably risk his own life to save Orion’s in a situation he was reasonably sure he could get out of.  Even after Orion had pissed him off two years ago.  When their way of life had changed.  When their crew had become steady and his ship had turned into The Clean Source’s errand bitch.

Solaris had taken on a passenger, a medic, who wanted passage from the tenth system, the Reform System—so named for its original assignment as a penitentiary centuries ago—to the second system, the Inner System.  It was extremely rare for a person living in the Outer Systems to request to go that far toward the center, but she offered to pay them more than they usually saw in a year.  They checked her story and her background twice, and decided that a couple holes here and there couldn’t really cause too much trouble.  They were utterly wrong about that, but it wasn’t the pains they went through dropping the medic off and eventually retrieving her before leaving that made Solaris angry.  It was the three months and six days round trip that allowed the medic to become acquainted with Orion.  She was an ex-Pure in her fifties who had a quirky sense of humor.  Solaris hated quirky.  And he hated taking an interest in Orion’s personal life.  He never had before and had no clue if the kid was still a virgin or not.  The problem was that Orion was fascinated by her quirkiness.  He was a stickler for order and sense and rationality—and Gemma Fur was not.  They were 32 years apart in age, but the emotionally underdeveloped Gemma and the overly-serious minded Orion met somewhere in their mid-thirties on maturity level.  Instead of dropping the woman off and leaving her where she belonged in the Reform System, Orion had married her and she had become the permanent medic on his crew.  A lot of people had become permanent members of his crew.  He’d had to start learning problem-solving and conflict resolution.  He didn’t like it.  They’d started running nothing but legitimate jobs, spending more and more time in the Inner Systems, and in general gaining respect and prestige as one of the few trustworthy Independent merchants in the Inner and Outer Systems.  That kind of publicity brought attention—and that’s the last thing Solaris wanted.  Despite all that, he didn’t blame Orion for the changes and not much changed in the dynamic of their relationship.  They spent fewer nights together on the bridge as he now had husbandly duties to perform, but that was about it.  Orion had been trying to lead The Way Home down the path of success for years and Gemma had finally offered the window of opportunity with her connections.  Orion had probably been instilled with ambition from infancy, and Solaris had been a tool he used to achieve that goal.  And that had been fine with Solaris.  As long as he could live his life in relative anonymity and do things that kept him from being bored, he was perfectly fine with becoming the first mate to Orion’s budding captain.  By the end of two years his eight person crew was richer than they’d ever been, and so he was told, happier than they’d ever been.  Until they missed a rendezvous to pick up their court appointed Antecedent—one of the civilian Clean Source—and had gone on with a delivery in the Center System.  It was on their way back to the Home Plate System to pick up their Antecedent when they’d been requested to be boarded by a Clean Source military vessel for a random Inspection.  Since they were not greeted by an Antecedent, the soldiers got a little agitated.

That led to their present situation of the commanding officer trying to figure out what was going on while three soldiers shouted at each other, Orion continued to struggle and scream his lungs out against Solaris’ hand, his mechanic lay unconscious on the floor with a dark puddle around his head, and the remaining six crew members—including Orion’s wife—had been shoved into an air lock and vented out to space when the soldiers hadn’t been given the answers they wanted.  And if Harnel didn’t answer the soldiers’ attempts to contact him, that’s probably where they would all be headed.

“All right, all right!” the officer shouted.  “All of you shut the blazes up.  By the Queen’s Tits, all I’ve heard you three do is bicker for eight months!”

The soldiers crossed their arms and frowned, one mumbling something about not having a peacekeeper onboard—which the officer ignored.

“Have any of you even checked the Comms Board again?”

The soldiers shifted their weight and looked sidelong at each other and mumbled unintelligible answers.  Solaris had been running through possible escape scenarios in his head, and none of them ended with him being alive.  Standing still and waiting them out was the only thing he could do.  Well, his arms were getting tired, so he could get Orion to stop struggling.  He considered trying to reason with him, but pinching his nose and making him blackout would be easier.

The officer walked over to the small Comms Board next to the air lock.  He touched the screen and went through several menus before pulling up an incoming call.  Harnel’s name and ID number flashed on.

“The Antecedent responded seven minutes ago you nitwits!”

Seven minutes.  Would his crew still be alive?  They were definitely in the air lock by then, but had they been vented yet?  Rather a moot point now.  Solaris squeezed Orion’s jaw tightly and hissed in his ear.

“Stop it.”

Orion stopped struggling and screaming, but he didn’t stop crying.  Solaris could have moved his hand from Orion’s mouth, but he found it strangely comforting to feel his hot, wet breath clinging to his palm.  He was still alive to feel it after all.

The officer pulled up the message Harnel had left—the message he hadn’t added an urgent flag to thus allowing the incoming call to easily go unheard due to all the shouting and banging going on in The Way Home’s cargo bay.  Harnel’s face popped up all squiggly on the busted Comms Board screen.  That wasn’t the soldiers’ fault; it had been broken for months.

“This message is for the Inspection Team onboard The Way Home registered to Captain Solaris Req.  I am Harnel Cu, Third Tier, Second Rank, Ninth Step, Third Seat, ID number 994720848274—court appointed Antecedent to The Way Home.”  Harnel breathed again.  “The captain and the crew of this ship are Registered, however, delinquent.  They missed a rendezvous to meet me and have been missing for some weeks now.  I’ve already filed an official complaint, all personnel are to be placed under arrest, and the ship confiscated.  The prison on Left Field is expecting them.”

The screen went blank.  Solaris had clamped down on Orion’s mouth again to keep him quiet.  He’d wanted to scream too at the betrayal, but he knew that wouldn’t help matters.  And it wasn’t really a betrayal.  Harnel wasn’t loyal to them and had never made it a secret that he hated having to do his requisite tour of duty on a space ship.  But he’d been with them almost three years—his tenure with them would be up in a matter of weeks.  And he sold them out to get out of it early.  He was costing Solaris his ship because he didn’t want to get a slap on the wrist for okaying them to make their delivery to the Center System before picking him up again.  Solaris had never liked Harnel, but he never thought of him as being one of those Clean Source who didn’t realize that the Unpure were actual people.  He considered murdering the bastard.  But, that would require him to get off the ship alive.

Orion slumped down against him.  His muscles were twitching from straining against Solaris for so long—and his heart rate had slowed.  Solaris gave his body a little shake, hoping that would stimulate his first mate back to life.  He was pretty certain his mechanic was dead.  He hadn’t moved in twenty minutes, though the pool around his head hadn’t grown any larger.

The officer turned to look at him.  He had extremely sympathetic eyes.  That freaked Solaris out more than anything.  The Clean Source never felt sorry for anything but themselves.  He walked close to Solaris and spoke softly so the soldiers wouldn’t overhear.

“Sorry, son.  But you should have known better than to fly without an Antecedent—even with an Antecedent’s permission.  It could have been in writing and one word from him saying it was not so is enough to convict you.”

Solaris didn’t reply.  What could he say?  The officer turned to the soldiers.

“Okay, contact the ship and tell them to tow this heap to the Home Plate System, Planet Left Field.  We’ll keep them in the air lock until we get there.  Should be less than half a fold from here.  Tell the prison to expect us in twelve hours—if our aim is good.”

“We’re going to Left Field?” one soldier crowed.  The Clean Source military wasn’t much of a military in the sense that they followed orders with respect and promptness.  “Oh, they’ve got some great tail there.”

The soldier rubbed his hands together and licked his lips.  His companions chuckled and one finally decided to obey their commanding officer’s orders and contact their vessel.

“Forget it,” the officer said, interrupting their merriment.  “This is a drop only.  This random Inspection has already put us behind schedule.  If I’d known it would be so much trouble I wouldn’t have bothered.  But, now we’re going to be ridiculously late because we have to do a half-fold to get to the Home Plate System—which means our folding engine will be down for three days.”

“Well, that’s three days we can be spending on the planet while the engine recovers.”

“No, we’ll need to leave immediately and spend those three days traveling away from Left Field.  We should have just enough time to travel to a space that will drop us out right by Six Pillar.  Then we’ll already be there and won’t waste the time—”

“Sir!  Once we get to Six Pillar we’ll have a debriefing and then immediate reassignment!”

“Your point, ensign?”

“Wuh—!”

“Well, sir,” another soldier tried to back up his speechless compatriot, “we’ve been in service for eight months.  One month of re-training and de-briefing will make it one year, sir.”

“I can calculate time,” the officer griped.

“But—we’ve been _adrift_ for eight months.  No planet time whatsoever.  We’ll be grounded on Six Pillar and then immediately reassigned to be adrift with you again for another year of duty.”

The officer raised his eyebrows.

“Not that we have a problem serving under you, sir, we all think you’re a great inspiration and leader—”  The officer rolled his eyes.  “But, you don’t keep a peacekeeper on board, sir.”

“So?”

“So!”  The third one shouted.  “You want us to go two years without sex?!  Why do think we’ve all gone tybz-shit crazy on you?  You can’t deny it’s not affecting you too.”

“Soldier, it’s not like you haven’t had the opportunity.  There was that illegal routing ship we caught in the Tropic System.  And the distress call we answered out in the Back End System.  I’m quite certain you and several others of this crew took advantage of the Unpure women available to you.”

Solaris marveled at the detached manner in which The Clean Source could speak of the Unpure as if they were livestock.  They wouldn’t dare even imply such behavior toward a Clean Source woman.

“But sir, that was five months out!”

The officer sighed in annoyance.  Solaris felt a tremor through the floor.  The Way Home was now moored to The Clean Source’s ship.  They would be on their way to Left Field shortly via a half fold.  The officer looked at Solaris.

“We can’t stop on, Left Field, I’m sorry.  Use this crew.  There’s no law concerning in what condition prisoners must arrive.”

“There’s just one problem with that, sir,” one of the soldiers said.

The officer still looked at Solaris.  “And what’s that?”

“All of the women of my crew are dead,” Solaris answered for the soldier.  “And even if a dead body isn’t enough of a deterrence, they’ve been vented into space.  Their bodies are quite irretrievable.  Especially once we start folding.”

“What about that one?” the officer asked, indicating Orion.

Should he answer?  “He’s a man.”

“Not even that.  Not twenty yet, I’m sure.”

Orion was in fact 21 years old, but maybe being a minor would convince the officer to spare him.  The officer finally looked back at the soldiers.

“I guess this will be a lesson to you not to be brash in the future.  You’ve killed the women and left yourself with a dead man, a man half again as big as you are, and a child.”  The officer shrugged.  “Do what you will.  We have six hours of folding ahead of us.”

The soldiers were across the space in a heartbeat, ripping Orion out of Solaris’ grasp.  He probably could have held onto him, but what would be the point?  The outcome would be the same.  Orion drew breath to scream, but he was kneed in the stomach hard enough to knock all of the air out of his lungs.  Before he could gasp in a breath, an oily rag was stuffed in his mouth—Solaris hoped they’d wadded it up enough.  If one corner went down his throat he could choke on it quite quickly.  His eyes were wide.  He still hadn’t drawn a breath.  When the soldiers slammed him face down on a metal crate his nostrils flared.  Solaris felt some of the tension leave his body: Orion was breathing again.  Though, for him, passing out would have been preferable to enduring having his arms wrenched over his head and tied together on the hoisting loop on top of the crate.  The first soldier—the one that had been speechless when he thought he wouldn’t be able to have sex for another year—was already humping Orion before he got both of their pants down.

Solaris looked away.  There were at least three of them that would be taking a turn—if they decided not to share with the rest of the crew still onboard their own vessel—he would have time to witness his friend’s degradation.  The officer was pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

“What are those for?” Solaris asked calmly.

“You seem very calm and a little on the accepting of the inevitable side, but I’ve no delusion that you couldn’t snap my neck if you wanted to.”

“True.  But what good would it do me?  I’d be dead not two seconds after I did.  Preserving my pride and dignity are not things I’d give my life for.”

The officer let out a small, humorless laugh.  He looked over at Orion.  Solaris did too.  The kid was in a lot of pain, that much was apparent.  But his eyes were blazing with anger.  Not for the soldiers—but for Solaris.  And not for letting him down and reducing their happy little crew to such a state—but because he knew Solaris very well.  And he was letting him know that if he rolled over and accepted this situation he might just kill him later.

“I don’t think your friend agrees with that sentiment.”

“He’s very prideful.”

The officer looked back at Solaris.  “And you’re not?”

“I just don’t want to be tied up.”

“And being tied up is the worst thing you can think of that I could do to you?”

Solaris shrugged.  “Do what you will.  We have six hours of folding ahead of us.”

The officer’s face curled almost into a sneer.  He obviously didn’t like being mocked.  Though Solaris wasn’t mocking him, merely mimicking him.  Maybe the officer didn’t like that either.

“Then lie back on that crate.”

Solaris had to lower himself down several feet to sit on the short, elongated box, but once he was there, the smooth wood was probably more comfortable to lie on than the metal box Orion was being pounded into.  The officer was on him in a second.  He was a little surprised; the officer had seemed very rational earlier.  Maybe the long months adrift had gotten to him too.  Solaris tried not to squirm.  That would make things more awkward than they already were.  Strangely enough—while he did get there eventually—the officer stayed away from his lower half and spent a good deal of time kissing him and licking the stubble on his jaw.

“I guess this is why you don’t mind going for months without the company of women,” Solaris said dryly.

The officer laughed and sighed happily as he rubbed against him.

“What’s your name?” Solaris asked.

“Why?”

“I need to know what to call out, don’t I?”

The officer paused and looked at him.

Solaris shrugged.  “It’s strange not to know the name of the person you’re having sex with.”

“It’s not strange to not know the name of your rapist.”

“I’m not fighting, am I?”

“I told you before: I’m not delusional.”

The officer returned to his work without answering Solaris’ question.  Solaris turned his head away.  Not toward Orion; he didn’t want to see that.  He looked at Ursa.  There was a small smudge in the blood by his head.  He’d moved.  So, the bastard was still alive.  He should have known it would take a lot more than that to kill the monster.  There was some good news at least.

Solaris started violently at the shock of pain that radiated from his lower half.

“Sorry,” the officer panted.

“Eh.”

“Altair.  My name is Altair Od.”

“Nice to meet you.”

 

Solaris stared at the ugly, claustrophobic drop ceiling and sighed.  He hated ceilings.  That’s why he liked space.  And why he’d chosen The Way Home for his ship.  The bridge and dorms had only a double-paned glass-polymer blend for a ceiling.  It had been designed that way when it had been used as a star-gazing passenger boat.  And now, since it was so old, it probably wouldn’t be refitted.  It would be scrapped.

Solaris turned his head and looked at the bed beside him.  Orion had curled himself into a ball and pulled the cords of his IV as tight as they would go without knocking the machine over.  He’d developed a fever.  Not surprising considering the amount of stress and torture his body had undergone in the nine hours it had taken to reach the outer space borders of Left Field, forcing the soldiers to abandon their toy and man their stations.  Solaris wasn’t sure of the exact number of times Orion had been abused, but he’d counted at least seven different soldiers.  He himself had merely had to endure a couple of rounds with the commanding officer—and then he’d been left alone.  He had refrained from trying to help Orion—that would only make them angry.  And fortunately, while they had been rough with his small body, they hadn’t been violent.  So, he’d asked permission to get a suture kit and stitched Ursa’s head back together.  He was in the hospital bed on his other side.  Both of them were out cold from drugs.  Which might be why the nurse currently riding him wasn’t too concerned about the amount of noise she was making.

“Oh!  You poor thing!” the nurse cried as she flopped on top of him.  Solaris had been thinking too hard to remember if he’d come or not.  “Oh, that was so wrong of them to treat you that way,” she murmured happily in her afterglow.  “I hope this made you feel better.”

“It did.”

She sat up and ran her hands up and down his chest, curing her fingers in the dark hair that covered his pectorals.

“I wonder why you’re not so beat up?”

“I didn’t fight.”

“Oh.”

She shifted and Solaris could feel his member inside her—soft and happy.  So he had come.

“I bet they were really mean to him,” she said, looking at Orion.

“They were.  They killed his wife.”

She looked back at him.  “Wife?  Come on.  No one would marry a minor.  It wouldn’t be legal.  And besides, Unpures almost never get married.  Why would they?  And I don’t mean that.”

The nurse was a pretty typical Clean Source airhead: the Unpure didn’t develop real feelings for each other, just primitive urges.

“I mean how pretty he is.  Soldiers are stupid.  They like to destroy pretty things.”

Well, even an idiot could have moments of brilliance.

“He’s so exotic looking.  His hair is such a pure golden color—that can’t be salon bought.  Salons have tried forever to get that same glow that natural Golds have—but it never comes out right.  And to have hair that pretty on skin that dark—that’s really rare.”

“Well.  He spends a lot of time in the sun.”

“Unh-uh.  There is no way that’s a tan.  That creamy mocha of his is all natural.  He is definitely one that would make a lot of money on the auction block.”

“Unh-huh.”

The nurse bent over him, her breasts brushing his chest.  He could feel himself start to harden again.

“But you know what would really make him priceless?”

“What’s that?”  Solaris placed his hands on the woman’s hips and pulled her forward a little.  She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment, and then remembered what she had been talking about.  A woman always remembered.  You give a man the slightest twitch to his dick he’d forget his own mother’s name—but a woman—she could carry on an argument in the middle of an orgasm.

“His eyes.  I saw them when the medic was checking for pupil response.  He was startled too.  Can you believe it?  Blue eyes.  I have never ever seen blue eyes before.  It must be strange for you to have him on your crew and see that every day!”

Not really.  Orion had been with him for eleven years.  He’d gotten quite used to it.

“It’s not unheard of,” Solaris said.  “He’s not the only blue-eyed individual I’ve ever seen.  It is a deeply recessed gene, but it comes out every now and then.”

“I guess I don’t travel enough.  I’ve only been in space once: on a school trip to Center Field when I was a senior.  Are there a lot more out there?”

“Well—he’s about only the third or fourth person I’ve ever seen.”

“I knew it!  And you travel all over.  So, he’s got to be absolutely priceless!  That hair with that skin and unnatural eyes!  I bet we could get into the Niece Princess’ wedding with a gift like that!”

“Which one?”

“Which one what?”

“Which Niece Princess is getting married?”

“Oh, nothing’s been announced.  I was just saying.  A royal wedding would be amazing to attend.  And the Princes are still too young to be married, but three of the Niece Princesses could be.  I think Umbriel is set to be engaged soon.  And Rhea—it seems like she should have been married a long time ago.  I wonder why she hasn’t?”

Solaris slid his feet up to get a little bend in his knees.  If the nurse wasn’t going to take care of his second wind, he’d do it himself.  Once again, the nurse didn’t much care about the amount of noise she was making.  Not until a figure entered the room and ordered her out.  She squealed and ran away, only pausing to collect her uniform—not put it back on.  Solaris was thankful they’d at least mostly finished—so he wasn’t hanging out with a full erection—but it did kind of ruin the feeling.  He just pulled the sheets over himself when the officer who had boarded his ship grabbed the railing of his bed and forced their faces close together.  He hadn’t turned on any additional lights in the dim room, but Solaris knew it was him.

“How could you let me do that?!” the man hissed, doing his best to keep his voice low.

“I thought rape wasn’t willing.”

“You could have told me who you are!  Do you have any idea how much trouble I could be in if They find out what I did to you?”

“Why does it matter who I am?  Shouldn’t the fact that you’d have to force anyone into that be enough for you not to do it?  What about him?  No Name.  No Pedigree.  A dirty child from a backwater planet.  Did he deserve to be gangbanged for nine solid hours?”

The officer grabbed his face.  “You are not any better.  You could have saved him by putting him under your protection.  How will you face him now?”

“He doesn’t know who I am.”  Solaris laughed.  “Who I am.  It means nothing.”

The officer let go of his face.  “You’re a fool if you believe that.  You can’t hide forever.”

“I’m not hiding.  My family knows exactly where I am.  In fact, they even know I’m in a hospital on Left Field being treated for physical assault.”

Solaris couldn’t tell for sure in the dark, but he could easily imagine the officer’s face going ashen.

“There’s no need for you to be distressed, Altair.  You were merely doing your job.  No one will find fault with the way you treated the Unpures.  Except, perhaps, for the Unpures themselves.  And no matter to what they think.”

“You are a strange creature, Sun Cy.”  The officer smiled.  “Solaris Req.  I like it.  I like you.”  He bent down again and put their faces close together.  “If I ever come across you again—think carefully how you introduce yourself to me.  Because Solaris Req will receive the same treatment.”

“I look forward to it.”

The officer kissed him deeply—for a very long minute.  Then he sat up and patted his chest.

“Mr. Req.”

“Officer Od.”

The officer left the room and Solaris relaxed into the flat pillow he’d been given when he’d complained the other one smelled funny.

“So…who is Sun Cy?” a voice croaked.

Solaris turned to look at Ursa.  He was moving a dry tongue over cracked lips.  He needed water.  Solaris pushed the call button for the nurse.  Hopefully one would be along within a couple of hours.

“He’s no one of consequence,” Solaris answered Ursa’s question.

The man nodded, then made a face and stopped moving.  He apparently needed more drugs too if his headache had come back that badly.

“You’re going to have a pretty messed up scar on your head.  The medic didn’t bother trying to redo the sutures I put in.”

“It adds character.”

“The last thing you need is more character, Ursa.”

The man laughed and then grimaced.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Solaris agreed.

 

Two weeks later they were moved from the prison’s hospital ward to a cell of their very own.  In two days time Solaris had had five fights and even killed a man—protecting Orion.  He had no power when it came to The Clean Source, but with other Unpures no one cared if they lived, died, or lost body parts.  And it certainly didn’t matter who did it to them.  When he was asked to go to the visitors’ room, he’d refused.  Ursa wasn’t strong enough to keep Orion safe yet.  So, it was two weeks in jail before whoever was trying to visit him insisted that he be brought before him one way or another.  But 24 days had been enough time for Ursa to get his strength back.  And Orion could tear most of the other men in prison apart himself.  Solaris just didn’t want him to have to go through the bother.

Feeling reasonably certain that his crew would be okay without him for a short time, he agreed to go to the visitation room without being drugged.  Harnel was waiting for him.  Solaris sat across from him.  The man was lucky.  He couldn’t kill him while Ursa and Orion were still in jail.  They would be the ones to pay the price.

“I didn’t know what they had done,” Harnel started.  No “Hi,” or “Long time, no see.”  Just denial.  “I didn’t know what they had done to Gemma and the others.  And I didn’t know what they would—do to you and—to Orion.”

“Yeah, you did.”  Harnel looked up, but Solaris wasn’t accusing him of anything.  Just stating a fact.  “That’s what The Clean Source does.”

Harnel flexed his jaw and dropped his head.  He chewed on his lips.  It’s what he did when he tried not to cry.

“I’ve got the charges dropped.  Completely scrubbed your record.  So, you’ll be able to get another ship and keep working jobs.  It’s like this never happened.”  He laughed bitterly and quickly passed a hand over his eyes.

“The Way Home?”

Harnel’s eyes betrayed him and tears overran his lashes.  “She’s gone, Sol.  Already scrapped.”  He wiped his eyes again and looked up.  “I’ve gotten permission to get you onboard a Cruise Vessel.  It can take you as far as the Tropic System.  Or drop you off anywhere else along the way.”

“That’s very kind of you, Harnel.”

“Damn it, Sol.  Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be your usual ‘life doesn’t affect me’ self.”

“What do you want me to say?  What would you have me do?”

“Get angry!  Curse me!  Hit me!  Anything but sit there and stare at me like I mean nothing to you!”

Harnel squeezed his eyes shut and cried harder, covering his mouth with a hand to hold back the sob that was trying to escape his lips.  Solaris sighed in annoyance.

“Why do gay men always fall in love with me?” he grumbled.

“What?” Harnel sniffled.

“Nothing.  Get us out of here today and on that Cruise tonight.  Then there will be a really good chance that I won’t kill you.”

Harnel swallowed.  He knew that Solaris didn’t lie.  He didn’t exaggerate.  And he never said anything unless he meant it.  The man nodded and stood up.

“Consider it done.”

Harnel left the room and Solaris really hoped that was the last time he ever saw him.  He hated being called Sol.  Not even Orion shortened his name.

Two hours later—why did everything in his life happen in twos?—Solaris, Orion, and Ursa sat on a wide, slatted wooden bench waiting to board a Cruise ship.  They had interior cabins, but the ship itself was monstrous and had viewing decks everywhere—especially designed for viewings during folding.  Ursa was snoring loudly and had a bit of drool coming out of one corner of his mouth.  Orion was leaning back on his hands, looking up at the arched dome of the station.  The sounds of a busy space station were magnified by the bouncing echoes.

“So, what are we going to do?”

Solaris looked over at Orion.  Those were the first words he had spoken since he’d heard news of their release.  Had pretty much been the only words he’d spoken since he’d woken up in the hospital.

“I wasn’t sure ‘we’ would be doing anything.”

“I wasn’t either.  I’ve been thinking about it in general for about two weeks.  And in specifics for about two hours.  I’ve come to realize I have no reason to leave you.”

“Would you feel that way if I had been able to stop what happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I’d had the ability to make them stop—but I didn’t—would you have still come to the same conclusion?”

“Would you have been able to save Gemma?”

Solaris thought about that.  He hadn’t made it down to the cargo bay and grasped the situation they were in until after Ursa was bleeding on the floor and his six other crew members were in the air lock.  Would he have been able to convince the soldiers in time to save them?  Would they have believed him?  Would they have cared without their commanding officer around to tell them what exactly his identity meant?

“I don’t think so.  I don’t think I could have prevented that.”  Though maybe he should have tried.  But frankly, even knowing The Clean Source as well as he did, he hadn’t believed they’d be capable of killing six people so horrendously.  He just hadn’t realized how dire the situation was until it was too late.

“Then I have no reason to leave you.  We’ll need to get a new ship.  They’re cheapest in the Resort System.”

“Our accounts were wiped.  Harnel couldn’t get any of it back.”

“Don’t want any of it back.  We can work in the Tropic System.  Or the Ice System.  Earn enough to get us out there to buy another ship.”

“We’d have a better chance finding jobs in the Twin Systems.”

“No.  Too close in.  We’re going to the Outer Systems and we’re not coming back.”

“We will have to Register.  And get an Inspection once a year.”

“Fine.  But we’re going to work the Resort System.”

“There aren’t really any legal jobs out there.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Hunh.  We will have to have another Antecedent on board while we do this.”

“That’ll make it more fun.”

Solaris smiled.  “Yeah.”

“But let’s ask for a girl this time.”

Solaris nodded.  “I agree.”

“Fuck-damned Pure Shits!” Ursa startled himself awake.  He stretched and let out a large yawn.  “We there yet?”


	3. Two and a Half Years Later

“What the tick was that?”

Orion was lying on his back underneath a control panel on the bridge, so he couldn’t see what the speaker was referring to.  He parted his knees and looked out at the legs around him.  He easily recognized Solaris’ massive feet and olive green pants he favored.  The set of skinny legs in jeans could have been Eqquleus or Corvus, but the drawings of unicorns and rainbows on the sneakers gave her away as Eqquleus.  The two other sets of boots were a mystery.  It was too quiet for it to be Cetus, and Vela tended to shy away from boots, but he did wear them on occasion.  Cygnus was no larger than his sister, so they couldn’t belong to him.  Ankaa wouldn’t bring her Pure self onto the bridge unless she absolutely had to.  That left Ursa and Circinus.  Though Circinus shouldn’t be standing up—he should be sitting in the pilot’s seat.  Orion supposed he could solve the mystery easily enough by coming out and looking, but the circuits on this POS ship needed him.  And they were more interesting.

Solaris nearly tripped over a set of feet sticking out from under one of the consoles.  Orion.  Who else?  He looked around at the small gathering of people who were a part of his crew, but were the least likely ones ever to be on the bridge.  Cetus was shaking Vela violently—and the only thing that kept him quiet was the seal of tybx wax over his mouth.  Corvus had her arms crossed over her chest and was boring a hole into the back of Circinus’ head.  He didn’t notice because he was too busy leaning over the steering controls in order to look out the forward windows, trying to figure out “what the tick something was.”

“What is going on here?” Solaris asked, not wanting to know nor be involved with fixing whatever was wrong.

Cetus turned to him and started pointing at Vela and screaming and shouting—only no sound was coming out due to the tybx wax.  Solaris looked at Vela.  The medic put his white hands up in the air like he was trying to keep Solaris from overreacting.  A year they had spent together and Vela still didn’t get that Solaris didn’t get upset and he barely reacted let alone overreacted.  Of course, after a year together Solaris still wasn’t used to Vela’s alabaster skin.  There was a smattering of light skinned people in the galaxy—he was one of them—but Vela was _white_.  With dark hair and even darker eyes, which just made him creepy.

“Look,” Vela started, “he volunteered.”

“Corvus,” Solaris got distracted by his firearms master’s shoes.  “What are you wearing?”

“Cygnus end Eqquleus ere faicking, and Es eren’t about to keem up hair on dis hairtful pridge feloor weetout no shes.”

“Corvus, you’re killing me with that accent.”

“Cygnus and Eqquleus are fucking,” Corvus enunciated each syllable carefully.  “End I was’ent about to come up ere and walk a-round on dis holy me-tal floor wizout any shoes.”

“So, you took Eqquleus’?”

“Dey air fucking in our room.  End Cygnus got mad at me de last time I just walked right in.”

“I see.  Maybe you and Cygnus should stop sharing a room.”

“Where would he go?  Would he bunk with you?” a muffled voice drifted up from under a console.

“Shut it or I’ll put him with you.”

“Well, I do love the smell of black powder in the morning.”

Corvus sighed.  “So do I.”

Solaris raised an eyebrow.  He was pretty sure Orion was joking and Corvus was not.

Corvus and Cygnus had been the first ones to join the three man crew of the Blank.  They had experts on guns and bombs before they even had a pilot.  Orion was a different man—but so far it had mostly been a good thing.  Corvus “Bang” Kir and Cygnus “Boom” Kir were as alike as fraternal twins could be.  Which was apparently quite a bit.  They had the same dark skin, dark dreadlocked hair usually pulled half-back, grey eyes, small frames, strong muscles, thick accents, and preference for women.  They only differed in their preference for method of destroying things.  Corvus liked guns and Cygnus liked explosives.  Solaris followed Corvus’ line of sight to where she was staring at Orion’s legs.  She also liked Orion and he and Solaris had a running bet to see if she would actually switch teams for him.  So far, Orion was winning and Corvus had kept her hands to herself.

Solaris returned his attention to Cetus.  He was still gesticulating wildly and the veins in his neck were popping through his tan skin.  Not a sound was coming out of him though.  He looked at Vela.

“That stuff is amazing.”

Vela grinned.  “Right?”

Cetus punched him.

“Hey, hey.”

Corvus pulled a gun on Cetus and he stopped pummeling the medic.  Solaris looked Corvus over.  Where had she been holstering that?  She was wearing skin tight black leather and not a whole lot of it.  Solaris waved a hand in her direction and she lowered the weapon.

“Okay, Vela, just take it off now.”

“Well.  That’s where the problem comes in.”

“Deed the gen-us me-dic mess up?”

Vela shot Corvus a dirty look.  Then he took in a breath and tossed his meter long braid over his shoulder.  He checked his lip, but it wasn’t bleeding.  He was stalling.

“Vela?” Solaris prompted.

“I’m having a little trouble getting it off.  It’s not dissolving the way I thought it—should.”

“And?”

“And he won’t sit still and let me figure out what to do!”

Cetus turned to him and started silently shouting at him again.

“Okay.  Do you have any of the wax left over?”

“Yes.”

“Can you test how to dissolve that and then when you figure it out get it off of him?”

“Solaris, my fearless skipper, you say that like I’m stupid.  Of course that’s what I was doing, but he won’t leave me alone to work!”

Solaris looked at Cetus.  “Do you see the problem here?”

Cetus started his arm waving again.

“If you bother him he can’t figure out how to take that off.  So…leave him alone until he figures it out.”

Solaris could see the mean snarl Cetus gave him even through the thick layer of yellowish wax.  Solaris stared him down.  Either he wasn’t in the mood for a real fight or he seemed to see the reason of that statement because he moved to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.  Solaris patted his head and the man relaxed a little.  Cetus was a bit like a dog.  He responded to power and dominance when he was riled up and to affection when he was submissive.  Orion had hired him on as muscle.  And Cetus was very good at that job.  But he wasn’t dumb.  He was very smart.  He just lacked common sense.  And like all those that had grown up in the Reform System, he was quick to assume the worst of people.  Very handy when you needed him to go knock somebody out.

Solaris turned back to Vela.  “Hurry.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!”  He grinned and left the bridge.

“Stupit man,” Corvus frowned.

“Corvus, will you get your brother and finish the inventory before we break atmo?”

“When ees dat?”

“Circinus?”

Solaris turned to his pilot.  The man was still leaning on the controls, looking up and out the window.

“Circinus!”

“What?”  The man spun around, his hazel eyes turning an ugly yellow in the line of red warning lights silently flashing around him.  It colored his stark white hair alternately red and pink.

“What are you looking at and when will we break atmo on Leevee?”

“Um, I’m trying to figure out what I’m looking at, and if what I’m trying to look at isn’t an important piece, we should be there by 1400 hours local time.”

Solaris wondered if he should question him further on the item he was looking for and its potential importance to the functioning of this POS ship.  He’d let Orion deal with it.

“Corvus, you heard him, 2:00.  That gives you guys a little over three hours.  Get it done.”

“What eef he’s steel bee-zee?”

Solaris reached a hand up to turn on the PA system.  “Eqquleus, you’re needed on the bridge.”  He flipped the system off and nodded to Corvus to get a move on.  “And take those shoes off.  That’s just unnatural.”

Corvus smiled at him and then immediately dropped it.  She wasn’t big on public displays of affection.  And that’s what a smile was to her.  She started to leave the bridge.

“Ello, Orion.”

“Good morning, Corvus,” came the voice from the console.

“Hey, Captain?”

Solaris turned and looked down the hatch that was in between the two main consoles of the bridge.  Solaris hated this ship.  He had no idea why anyone would put two entrances to a bridge.  It was more important to keep people out of it than to give people a chance to escape from it.  In the troublesome hatch Ursa was turning a gadget in his hand.  From the overhead view, Solaris could see the jagged scar that cut a line through the orangey shock of hair on his head.  Like Solaris, Ursa was fair-skinned—but that was hard to tell due to the intense freckling that covered him head to toe.

“What’s up, Ursa?”

“You want a—a—you know.   I think we should—”  Ursa stopped and rubbed his head furiously.  He growled in frustration.  Ever since the blow to the head he’d sustained over two years ago, his words failed him.  He hadn’t lost his great knowledge of mechanics and his mind hadn’t slowed at all, but he had trouble remembering the words he needed to express himself.  But it was only when he was talking.  Orion had asked him to write down what he was saying one day and it had come out perfectly fine.  The brain was a funny organ.  Ursa had taken to carrying around a pad and pencil in order to get his point across, but it still bothered him that he couldn’t get his mouth to say what he wanted it to.

“The canisters.  Canisters.”  Ursa nodded.  “They need to be filled.  Will we—uh.  The uh.”  He tapped on his wrist.

Solaris had no idea what canisters Ursa was talking about, and quite possibly that hadn’t been the word he meant at all, but he understood what he was getting at.

“Yeah, we’re going to be on planet for several days, so you’ll have time to get done what you need.”

“Thanks, Captain.”

Solaris shook his head.  Ursa had been with him for seven years now.  And before the injury he never once referred to him as captain.  Now Solaris figured he did because he couldn’t get his name out.  And it was possible that the fact that he knew Solaris’ given name was what was confusing him.  But so long as he kept calling him captain and nothing else, there wasn’t a problem.

“I’m here, Cappy!  What’cha need?”

Solaris turned to look at the “logistics manager” of his ship.  She was shorter than Orion—but just barely.  And that was why Solaris believed he’d hired her—so that there would be someone else on the ship shorter than him.  The Kir twins had him beat by four centimeters.  And what she had been hired on for was to organize the logistics.  Orion said that he’d heard somewhere that an army runs on its stomach.  So that meant that the day-to-day stuff had to be taken care of.  And neither he nor Solaris were inclined to do that.   Solaris had thought Orion was off his rocker when he suggested it and balked at the idea of a logistics officer.  He didn’t want someone telling him how to run his ship.  But then he’d found Eqquleus.  Tiny, chipper, and so polite you could never tell when she was being nice or insulting you to your face.  She was cute rather than pretty, and her soft brown skin was indigenous to the Tropic System and reminded him of chocolate.  This made him often wonder what it would be like to lick her.  He refrained, but he had it on good authority from Cygnus that she did not, in fact, taste like chocolate.  Her wiry, curly hair was the cutest thing about her and it was usually put up in cute pigtails or buns.  Right now it was unruly and sticking out at all angles.  Sex hair.  Solaris was familiar with it.

“We’re making landfall in a little over three hours.  Make sure you know what we need to get because we’re folding to the Resort System after we leave here and won’t be stopping until we get there.  That’ll be two months from now.”

“I know, Cappy.  I’m from here, you know?  I know how long it takes to get anywhere from here!  We’ll be down several days, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I get passage on a shuttle and go see my parents?  They live on Cerulean.”

“Will you be able to get back in time?”

“I’m sure I’ll get back before you leave.”  She smiled brightly.  That meant she’d come back when she was ready and they would just have to wait until she did.  If he gave her permission.

“Sure.  You can go.”

“Thanks!”

“You going to take your boyfriend to meet your parents?”

“Ha, ha,” she laughed.  “Which one?”

Then she bounded down the stairs.  Solaris passed a hand over his face.  It was another steady crew.  He hated steady crews.  And somehow this one was more annoying than the old one.  He wondered if he could get them all killed by The Clean Source too.  At least Orion hadn’t married any of them.  Yet.

“Don’t touch that,” Solaris instructed Cetus.  Cetus sat back in a huff.  Did he have to wait _here_ for Vela to finish?

“Please, excuse me, may I enter the bridge room?”

Solaris made a face.  Perfect.  “Come on in.  You know, nobody else asks.”

“They are members of your crew,” Ankaa Wu reminded him, “and I am your Antecedent.  It’s not my place to go where I’m not wanted.”

“Then why are you on the ship?” the console muttered.

Ankaa raised a displeased eyebrow at the legs sticking out onto the bridge.  Then she returned her attention to Solaris.

“Did you say we are going to the Resort System?”

“Um.  Yes.  I know someone as high and mighty and Pure as you wouldn’t even think of it, but it’s where we’re going.”

Ankaa scowled at him.  “I have been there many times, as you well know.”

“Then what’s the problem, sweetheart?”

Ankaa pursed her lips.  Then relaxed them.  “The problem, sugar cakes, is that it’s two months from here.  And from there it is two months and two weeks to get back to the Home Plate System.”

“Two months, two weeks, and nine days.  What’s your point?  We won’t be going to the Home Plate System then anyway.”

“But your Inspection will be due.”

“Well, with the brand new Inspection Station on Dercef to go to, we won’t have to go back to the Home Plate System.  Ever.”

“You will still be required to go every three years to replace your Antecedent.”

“Okay.  Whatever.”

“Solaris!  My service ends in three months!  If I’m not dropped off and replaced, my service will be renewed!  Don’t you get it?  You’ll be stuck with me for another three years!”

A sound of electronic failure came from the console followed by a shout of pain and a curse word.

“Well, honestly, Ankaa, you haven’t been nearly the nightmare I was expecting.  And we’ve got a nice system going.  I see no reason to start over with some young putz fresh out of school.”

“But, Solaris!”

“Come on, honey,” Solaris smiled at her as he leaned on the console Orion was working on.  “Don’t act like you don’t want to stay.”

Ankaa grunted in a very unladylike manner.  Her coppery skin was usually found in the Ice System, but that’s not where she had grown up.  She had been raised in the Inner System, and spoiled beyond belief—as were all Purity rich enough to be able to live there.  Her long hair was black, shiny, and silky smooth.  Her eyes were dark, but not black or brown.  Solaris suspected they were a very rare, very dark blue.  And she was beautiful.  And she knew it.  And she knew that her body was something Solaris wanted to get his hands— and other parts—on.  A fact he had not failed to mention to her on several occasions.  An indiscretion that if reported could easily cost him his ship and his freedom.  But she didn’t report him.  Solaris liked to think it was because she desired him too, but more than likely she didn’t want to go back home.  This little charade was merely a way of informing him that if he did his planned trip to the Resort System that she would be obligated to stay on the Blank for three more years.  She knew quite well he wasn’t going to change his plans.  But he’d play her game.  Let her have her way.  The red silk she wore clung to every curve of her body—and there were a lot of them.  That’s all it took for her to win most arguments.

“Think of it this way, honey buns, you’ll have three more years to make a decent human being out of me.”

“Out of an Unpure?  Impossible.  And don’t think I’m going to let any more of your little schemes slide.  I’ll be reporting everything you do from now on.  Lollipop.”

“Lollipop?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I meant sucker.”

Circinus laughed and Cetus’ shoulders shook.  He probably laughed too but the wax kept him silent.  Ankaa turned on her heel to march off the bridge.

“Oh, Ankaa, when are you going to come to my bed?”

“The day you grow a brain.”  She disappeared down the metal stairs with light clanging sounds.

“Hmm.  That was a bit underwhelming.  She must be tired.  Circinus, did you ever figure out what came off the ship?”

“No.  I’m hoping it was space debris and not something that belonged to us.”

Solaris shook his head.  Whatever.  He was content to die in space.  He wouldn’t worry about it.  Instead he dropped to his knees and squeezed himself into the tiny space underneath the left console where Orion was working.

“What cha doin’?”

“Fixing this POS ship of yours.”

“Of mine?  You—”

“I changed my mind and said I wanted to swap.”

“You’d already done that three times.”

“And you should have listened to me a fourth time.”

“Hnn.”

Orion dropped his arms and turned to look at Solaris.  Even in the dim light his blue eyes jumped out of his brown face.  He reached out a hand and ran it down Solaris’s cheek, which was covered in three days’ growth of beard.  Orion’s smooth cheek probably had three days growth of beard on it as well.

“What’s wrong?” Orion asked.

“Nothing,” Solaris answered truthfully.  He was fine after all.

“Well then,” Orion returned to his work, “if you’re not down here because you’re worried or unhappy, then you’re down here simply because you wanted to see me.  And that’s not attachment, Solaris, that’s affection.”

“Maybe Corvus is rubbing off on me.”

Orion laughed.  “Yeah.  She’s sweet like that.”


	4. Old Friends

“Beekaise it ees noht wirth de dime to veezeet.  I don noh whai yoo wayst all mai dime.  We on’ee auff werld tree dayz.”

“Yoo say it ev’ee dime I wan to go shomweir.  Baht ev’ee dime yoo wan to go shomweir it ess mohst emmportan.”

“Beekaise what I do ess mohre emmportan.”

Solaris had just returned from thumb printing his signature onto the docking meter and was now watching Cygnus and Corvus yell at each other at the bottom of the gangway.  Orion was leaning against the hull near the controls, waiting to shut the door.  Solaris stood beside him and crossed his arms as his eyebrows drew closer and closer together as he listened to the twins argue.

“What the blazes are they fighting about?” Solaris asked Orion.

“I have no idea,” the blond replied.

“Oh, it’s pretty typical,” Eqquleus said as she skipped down the gangway.  “Corvus wants to do something, but Cygnus said it’s a waste of time.  And Corvus got upset because every time she wants to do something, Cygnus says no, but every time he wants to do something they have the time to do it.  Then Corvus slipped into that dialect they speak on that one planet in the Back End System and I lost it.  Of course I think most of what they’re saying now is curse words.”

“How do you understand them at all when they let their accents take over that much?” Orion asked as he wrenched his hair into a short ponytail.

“Oh, well, they slip into their accents when they get upset or excited.  And I’m around Cygnus a lot when he’s excited.”  Eqquleus chuckled and nudged Solaris with her elbow.  “If you know what I mean.”

Solaris and Orion exchanged glances.  Eqquleus was by far the cutest member of their crew, but she was also the crudest.

“Okay, well, my transport for Cerulean leaves in about half an hour, so I better get to the dock.  You know, you guys should really get off this dumpy planet and go see the other ones.  The Tropic System really is the best place in the Galaxy.  But you guys never even leave this nasty, dusty industrial planet.”

“That’s because we’re not here on vacation,” Orion said.  “We’re here for repairs, supplies, information, and hopefully a job or two.”

“Yeah…but you guys never go on vacation.”

“I’m always on vacation,” Solaris said.

“And I don’t like not having anything to do,” Orion said quietly.  “I don’t like having time to myself to think.”

Eqquleus rolled her eyes.  “Okay, geez.  What is your childhood trauma?  Like it matters.  You’re repressing, so we don’t need to know I guess.  Well, I’ll bring you back some sticky rice, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Solaris said as Eqquleus began to skip her way toward the part of the dock where the passenger shuttles moored.  “But none of that tybx-flavored shit, okay?”

She waved a hand in acknowledgement and kissed Cygnus on the cheek as she passed him.  He barely noticed as he was trying to break his sister’s knee before she dislocated his shoulder.

“Ahh!  Breathe in that motor oil.  Smells like home.”

Solaris and Orion looked at the gangway.  Circinus was clomping down in shorts and a tank top.  Solaris didn’t think it was that warm on the planet.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Orion asked.  “You’re staying with the ship first shift.”

“Aww, come on.  Vela’s here.  He’s still working on that wax.  And Cetus is staying on until it comes off.  They can watch the ship.”

“You want us to leave the ship in the hands of an airhead and a landmine?”

Circinus shrugged.  “Exactly.  Who would try to fight them for anything let alone this POS.  Seriously, can we buy a new ship while we’re here?”

“Sure,” Solaris said.  “If you can come up with the credit to do it.”

“Maybe I can whore myself out to earn a little side cash,” Circinus laughed sardonically.

Solaris always wondered if the self-deprecating thing was an act.  Circinus had caramel skin, striking hazel eyes, spiky white blond hair, and a slim athletic build.  Solaris had witnessed dozens of women hitting on him in every bar on every world they ever visited.  In fact, if the lighting was dim enough and he was drunk enough, Solaris even started to think Circinus looked sexy.  But the 28 year old pilot always joked about using his looks to get what he wanted as if that was the last thing he would ever be able to do.  He also didn’t ever seem to realize he was being hit on by women and got most of his sexual congress through prostitutes.  Then again, maybe the planet he’d been raised on measured attractiveness differently than in the rest of the Galaxy.  Solaris didn’t know much about the Twin Systems and had only ever been to Twin 1.  Circinus was from Twin 2 and had jumped at the chance to become the pilot of the Blank almost two years ago when they’d met him on Jangas in Twin 1.  He’d seemed pretty eager to leave and hadn’t said a word about the fact that they had never gone back.  Orion had a theory that he was a fugitive, but if whatever he did wasn’t bad enough to make the intersystem news, then it wasn’t bad enough to keep him from piloting the ship.  Solaris had been hesitant to hire such a young pilot, but Orion had assured him it was the right choice.  So far, he had been right.

“Why do you want to go anyway?” Solaris asked.  “You normally don’t like to leave the ship when we’re on world.”

“Yeah, well, I could use some company,” he smiled sheepishly.

“You know, you don’t have to pay for it every time.”

“Maybe _you_ don’t.”

“Regardless,” Orion interrupted them, “we can’t leave the ship with just Vela and Cetus.  For one thing, Cetus might murder Vela and I’ve gotten used to having someone around who can stitch up the bullet holes so nice and neat.”

“Aw, come on.  Cetus is dumb, but he’s not stupid.”

“He is when he’s pissed off.”

“I’ll stay with the ship.”

The three men turned toward the top of the gangway where Ankaa stood at the entrance, a smooth, clean hand resting on the dirty, dented metal.

“I told you we’ll be here for at least three days,” Solaris said.  “You have time to take a shuttle to one of the planets.  This might be your last chance to luxuriate in actual sunlight for a while.”

“And drink something yummy out of a coconut shell with a little umbrella in it,” Circinus added, indicating the size of the umbrella with his thumb and index finger.

Ankaa was too cultured to shrug her shoulders, so she lifted one gracefully and then smoothed out her silky dress.  All three men watched the movement carefully before snapping their eyes back up to her face.

“I would prefer to stay with the ship.”

“If you’re not feeling well you should see a medic,” Circinus said.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t feeling well.  And if I need to see a medic, well then, staying with the ship will accomplish that as well.”

“I meant a licensed medic,” Circinus mumbled softly.

Solaris elbowed him discreetly.

“Oh, like she doesn’t know,” Orion scoffed.

The four of them started in surprise as a gunshot ripped through the air and a bullet ricocheted off the gangway.  Solaris turned to the twins.  Cygnus was clutching his balls with one hand and holding a grenade to his mouth with the other, his teeth on the pin.  Corvus had double .45s trained on her brother.

“That’s enough!” Solaris roared.  Everyone, including the fearless twins, shrank back from him.  Well, everyone except Orion.  He hadn’t been scared of Solaris in years.  “I have had it up to here with your shit!  If you two can’t have an argument like people _not_ trying to get arrested by The Clean Source, then you can stay on this planet!  You got me?”

The twins nodded, Corvus holstering her guns and Cygnus hooking the grenade back on his belt.  Solaris sighed in resignation.

“I need a drink.”

Orion punched the side of his fist against the sticky mechanism that would withdraw the gangway.

“I’ll go with you.”

Solaris was still trying to glare at the twins, but his lips twitched up when he saw the malicious smile that appeared on Orion’s face upon hearing Ankaa’s cry of alarm as the gangway folded up fast and hard.  It was yet another part of the POS ship that did not work properly, but rather than creaking and jerking its way closed, it snapped up like a rubber band.  Cetus had lost a couple of fingertips by standing too close to it when it was shut once.  And if Ankaa kept standing near it when Orion was by the controls she might lose more than that.

Circinus chuckled and stretched his arms above his head as he walked a few paces in front of them.  Solaris watched him work the kinks out of his muscles and realized it had been too long since he’d been with a woman if he was admiring Circinus while he was sober.

“Orion, why do you hate Ankaa so much?  As far as Clean Source go, she’s not that bad.”  Circinus turned back to give him a smile.  Orion didn’t smile back.

“And what does that mean?  So, she’s not the worst they have.  That doesn’t mean she’s in any way bearable.”

“I suppose.”

He stopped walking to let the other two catch up to him.  He instinctively fell into step with them on Solaris’ side.  It only took a person one experience of touching Orion and having stars and pain exploding behind their eyes after he socked them in the solar plexus before they started skirting around him.  It seemed to Solaris that it wasn’t really intentional on Orion’s part, but merely a fear reaction to the bad memories the skin to skin contact evoked.  He had actually gotten better about the punching as of late.  Neither Cetus nor Eqquleus had ever had the misfortune of catching him on one of his bad days, and he never stood closer than ten feet to Ankaa.  Circinus had been unfortunate enough to join them while Orion was still quite leery of having men stand behind him.

The dock and its many jetties eventually funneled together to create one path that led to the town of Catseye.  It conveniently dumped them out into a section consisting mostly of hardware stores, bulk item grocery stores, and bars.  Everything the discerning space farer could want.  Circinus, being more discerning than most, was looking for something else however.  Just before he peeled off from them to go in search of massage therapy, Solaris hooked a finger under one of the straps of his tank top and pulled him toward a bar.

“Have a drink with us, Circinus.”

Circinus was unsurprisingly shocked by Solaris’ quasi-command, but he had enough respect for his captain to do as he was told.  For now.

“Just how drunk are you planning on getting?” Orion murmured quietly, raising an amused eyebrow at Solaris.

Solaris smiled back.  “Not that drunk.  There’s a Sheriff sitting in front of the massage parlor.”

“Really?” Circinus half-gasped and looked back toward the building he had been heading for.  “I don’t see one.”

“Because you’re not looking for a female Sheriff.”

“No _way_!  That chick is a Sheriff?”

“Yep.”

“How can you tell?”

“Trust an old man when he tells you these things.”

Circinus snorted.  “You’re not even five years older than me.”

“Actually, I’m five and a half years older than you.”  He took Circinus by his firm, yet supple bicep and pushed him through the rickety door of the second cheapest bar in town.  “Now go get us some beers, would ya?”

Circinus grumbled, but not too loudly since Solaris also provided him with the credit to pay for the alcohol.  Solaris and Orion sat in one of the three tables available on the dirt floor and farthest away from the majority of the occupants of the establishment who were clustered around the bar itself.  Orion leaned an elbow on the table and dropped his head into his hand.  His pretty face smooshed up on one side.

“What’s the matter, Orion?”

“We’re too close in.”

They were certainly not what most people would consider “close in” to the inner systems, but Orion was no longer “most people.”  Never really had been anyway.

“It’s all right.  We’ll be gone in a few days and hopefully never venture closer in than Kilderling.”

Kilderling was the farthest orbiting satellite in the habitable zone of the orangey main sequence star of the Resort System.

“Yeah.  That’ll be nice.”

“Why don’t we just move out to The Edge?”

“I thought about that.”

“What made you decide against it?”

“Can’t fuck with The Clean Source out there.”

Solaris chuckled and mussed up Orion’s hair.  He did nothing to fix the few wisps that now stuck out wildly from his head.  Circinus arrived with three bottles of beer, and moved the remaining chair to be closer to Solaris.  He pulled out a small switchblade from his pocket and used it to cut open the smallish jenna fruit the bartender had given him.  After creating six equal pieces he squeezed the juice from two segments into each of their beers and then pushed the pieces all the way inside.  The other two men murmured their thanks and clinked the necks of their bottles against his.  They all took a sip and sighed at having something “fresh” again.

“I can’t believe they have actual jenna fruit here,” Circinus said.  “Usually they just give you a kiwi or something.”

“It’s a lot easier to get in the Tropic System,” Solaris explained.

“Ah, that makes sense.  It’s indigenous to Calpal.  Or Calpi.  Or Caiolpay.”

“Calliope,” Solaris and Orion said together.

Circinus laughed.  “Right.  Cah—that.”

“By Tethys’ royal slit, I would swear my eyes are deceiving me.  _Captain_ Solaris Req.”

Solaris didn’t have to look up to recognize the voice of Volpecula Asp, but he did anyway.  And there he was, the very definition of a space pirate.  Tall, swarthy, dashing in a bizarre way, and complete with an eye patch.  Last time he’d seen him it had been an eye bandage.  He guessed the eye didn’t make it.

Volpecula cut his eye over to Orion.  “And your little charitable laborer.”  Solaris didn’t react to the thinly veiled implication that Orion was his slave.  Neither did Orion.  Something that clearly surprised Volpecula who had been expecting a mild explosion from the small though extremely volatile man.  Having been denied that pleasure, he continued, “It’s been years since we’ve seen you in these parts.  Any parts for that matter.  We’d all thought you were arrested, or better yet, dead.  A pity that’s not the case.”

While some people might try to be a little cleverer in delivering wishes of another man’s death, Volpecula’s sole (questionable) virtue was that he was straightforward.  He hadn’t changed much in the four years that Solaris had been fortunate enough to avoid his presence.  The Way Home and her crew had often crossed paths with Volpecula and his own band of mercenaries and miscreants.  Usually they had been working the same job—just for other people.  The last year before The Way Home had been destroyed they hadn’t come across Amity or her captain once.  Probably because Orion had found them nothing but legitimate jobs to work.

Solaris took another sip of his beer and quickly scanned the six people with Volpecula.  He recognized four of them: Perseus Jeb was Volpecula’s Orion.  He was his first mate and had been with Volpecula since before he and Solaris had ever crossed paths.  That’s where the similarities ended.  Perseus was a large man with bronze skin, dark hair, and deep brown eyes that could make a card shark the worst poker player in the galaxy.  He was also quiet; Solaris only ever remembered hearing his voice when he was placing a bet.  Orion had been quite a bit more verbal.  And obnoxiously louder.  Now they had Perseus’ quiet reserve in common.

Serpens Ord was the medic of Amity and female only in the genetic sense.  She wasn’t very tall, but she was stocky and muscular with very little neck.  Her skin was a sickly yellow-brown, and with intentional disparity she dyed her hair cherry red.  Now Solaris had no prejudices against people with same sex preferences—he loved Corvus, crazy as she was, and he had his suspicions about Vela, and well, if he was being honest alcohol could bring out some atypical tendencies in himself—but Serpens was quite hideous to look at and the least she could do was shave her furry mustachio.

Cetus Qew was a monster.  He was easily six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than Solaris, and Solaris was a large man.  He was dark skinned and dark tempered.  He was like the Cetus on his own ship: muscle.  Solaris tightened his grip on his beer bottle in anger remembering the last time he’d seen Cetus.  He’d looked up into the monster’s grinning face as he’d swooned into unconsciousness from a broken leg and concussion.  He quickly moved his eyes to Ara Exx.

Ara was more handsome than any man had a right to be with the same smooth, beautiful coppery skin that Ankaa had.  Dark hair and mysterious dark eyes made most people susceptible to his charms, which were numerous.  For several years Solaris had assumed the beauty was merely a peacekeeper Volpecula kept on board for the members of his crew that preferred men.  However, Orion had either through careful investigation or sheer idiocy—he’d never admitted which one—discovered that Ara was a former intelligence officer for The Clean Source.  After learning this they hadn’t even suspected he was an ex-Pure due to the black, angular slave branding on his arms.  He’d been through the Charitable Labor program as a child and obviously shown exceptional aptitude at something for him to be granted his freedom, and he must be borderline superhuman at whatever that was to make The Clean Source willing to elevate an Unpure to the status of officer within their own ranks.  What he did for them and why he left were unknown to Solaris, but that one piece of information was more than enough to make Solaris give him a very wide berth.  And when he was forced to be in a room with him he was constantly paranoid about anything he might have said or done before he knew what Ara was.  This knowledge was closely guarded by both Orion and himself because quite frankly they couldn’t be entirely sure Ara really was a _former_ intelligence officer.  Though based on some of the things Ara knew about several people in the room and the fact that they were all not in jail was a point in his favor that he wasn’t.

The other two in Volpecula’s party were strangers.  A tall, slender-muscled woman with fair skin and a long brunette braid was obviously more muscle.  She might have been pretty once, but her face, arms, and every other visible piece of skin were covered in scars and burn marks.  The second was a nondescript man of average height, average build, average looks, and medium coloring.  Solaris guessed he was the mechanic based on the dark grease under and around his fingernails.

Quite frankly Solaris was surprised to see such a large party out with Volpecula because that left a question of just how many more were still with the ship.  If his crew had grown that large, he was obviously reaping the benefits of Solaris and Orion’s absence, which would make him more testy than usual to seeing them in what he might consider his territory.  Solaris hoped that his ship was undergoing an Inspection and therefore everyone had been forced off.  It would be much better if his crew was still only around nine strong, the same as his own, but that didn’t change the fact that they were currently outnumbered.  And Circinus was about as much use in a fight as a medium sized rock, i.e. you could only partially hide behind him.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Volpecula,” Solaris said flatly.  “Will it make you feel better if I buy you a beer?”

“Not really.”

Solaris managed to make one shoulder move up in the vague motion of a shrug and took another sip of his beer.  Volpecula and his crew stared at them.  Orion was rubbing the sweat off his cold bottle with his thumb and Circinus was glancing back and forth between his captain and the menacing group partially surrounding them.  He hadn’t the slightest idea who the fairy tale villain in the eye patch was, but he was smart enough to let Solaris handle the situation.

“So can we just get a drink already?” Serpens complained in her gravelly, deep voice.  “Who gives a flying tybx shit if Req is back in these parts?  You should be happy he is.”

“What?” Volpecula snapped.

“You’ve done nothing but complain about how boring and easy everything is since he’s been gone.  Maybe now he’ll cause you a little trouble.”

“I hope so,” Cetus growled with a grin and cracked his knuckles.

Orion shifted his weight, but didn’t yet engage anyone.  Solaris avoided eye contact.

“I never said—” Volpecula started, but was interrupted by Serpens.

“Well, fuck you pussies then.  I’m getting a drink.”

She waddled off and the mechanic followed her.

Volpecula actually sagged a little bit in dismay.  His eye found Solaris, who was hiding a smile behind a swig of beer.  He wasn’t laughing at Volpecula.  Oh no.  He’d been in that exact position before himself.  In the Outer Systems rank had very little meaning.

“Who’s this cute thing?” the scarred woman asked as she ran a hand over Circinus’ shoulder and looked at him like she might just eat him after she fucked him.

Circinus blanched and scooted his chair closer toward Solaris.

“I’m taken,” he whispered hoarsely.

The woman’s eyes flicked to Solaris and then back to her prey.  She smiled.

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“Go get a drink, Leo.”

Leo’s greenish eyes flashed to her captain.  Volpecula was no longer the cowed, comical captain in name only.  The sharp look in his one eye was enough to make anyone glad he didn’t have two to work with.  The woman frowned, but backed off.  Solaris was impressed.  He was going to have to learn that trick.  He always had to strain his vocal cords and threaten violence before anyone took him seriously.

“I’ll come see you later, sugar,” Leo said as she sauntered toward the bar with a wink over her shoulder.

Circinus tilted his head.  “Do I want that?”

“No,” said the remaining members of Volpecula’s crew.

“Trust me,” Cetus said with a grin.  “I’m still sore.”

“Well, the muscles used for taking a beating are different from the ones for giving one,” Orion muttered into his beer.

Solaris dropped his eyes to the table and hoped that merely ignoring them would make them leave.  He knew better, but he wasn’t so cynical that he couldn’t hope for the impossible.

“So, Orion,” Cetus half drawled, half-growled the name.  He picked up a chair from one of the other tables and slammed it down on the ground close to Orion.  He straddled the seat and rested his arms on the back.  “I’m looking around here, and you know, I don’t see the lovely and clever Gemma anywhere.”

Solaris was getting uneasy.  Not because of the sore topic, but because Volpecula, Perseus, and Ara had all brought chairs close to their table and sat down with them.  There was going to be some violence tonight.  He should come up with an excuse to send Circinus away.

“Is she not here?” Perseus asked with the hint of a smile.  Solaris recalled the one other time he would hear Perseus talk: when he was collecting on a bet.

Orion shook his head and took a large gulp of his beer.

“Will she be joining us later?” Cetus attempted a sneer, but it came out closer to a snarl.

“I hope not,” Orion said softly.  “It wouldn’t be pretty if she did.”

Solaris let out an exhalation of air, but couldn’t quite make it a laugh.

“Didn’t I tell you!” hooted Cetus.  He pounded the flimsy table and it cracked under his fist.  “Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t going to last?!”

He barked out his laughter and Perseus leaned forward.

“Just to be clear, so the terms are fair, you’re no longer married to Gemma Fur, right?”

Circinus blinked.  “You had a wife?” he blurted in surprise.

“Oh.  Looks like she’s been gone for a while now,” Cetus chortled.  “Volpecula!  Do you remember this little brat raging about how he’d be with his senior citizen of love till death do they part!  See, that’s what happens when you’re an arrogant little piss-ant!”

“True,” said Perseus, “but we need to check the timeline.  You said they’d split up in a month.  I said it would last at least two years because he’s so stubborn.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cetus snapped and banged the table again; it now slanted toward the floor.  “The bet was that it wouldn’t last at all.  However soon or late the split came doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that the little shit owes me 2000 in credit.”

Circinus choked on his beer and put a hand to his mouth to keep the liquid from running down his chin.  His eyes were wide at the obscene number just quoted.  There were two kinds of currency in the Homestead Galaxy.  The oldest was the system of notes—notes that represented a value of what a person owned.  Such as three goats, an apple tree, and a tybx farm in the old days.  Now they represented anything from livestock owned to property to professional skills a person possessed.  The notes represented real goods that could be traded and exchanged for the things people needed.  When The Clean Source took over, a new system consisting of “credit” was introduced.  Credit, as far as everyone who wasn’t a Pure banker could tell, was just a number that a person had on their ID cards that would go up or down as they “spent” or “earned” credit.  Only now, when a person “bought” three apples from someone, they didn’t have to actually give up anything of value for them.  At least, that’s the way it seemed to most Outer System residents.  It was very difficult to earn credit, legally anyway, and most Outer System inhabitants retained the use of the old note system.  In fact, it was virtually unheard of to use credit for anything in the Resort System.  Of course, credit was the only currency accepted by The Clean Source for anything, including businesses that had to report directly to them.  Since it was hard to come by and always necessary to have an emergency supply in reserve in the event of surprise taxes, fees, fines, and bribes, non-Pures never used credit amongst themselves for even legitimate transactions let alone something as silly as betting on the duration of a relationship.  And 2000 credits would be more than enough for the POS Blank to be discarded and replaced with something very shiny and new.

Circinus finished wiping his chin and started to feel nauseated.  If Orion owed that much credit for some wife that clearly no longer existed, then they were clearly in some serious shit because neither pair of gleaming, greedy eyes focused on him looked like they thought the amount was a joke.

Solaris knew better than to look at Cetus or Perseus, or Orion for that matter, but he couldn’t keep staring at the table.  He looked at Ara.  The man had an elbow resting precariously on the tilting table, the side of his jaw resting against his hand as his little finger played over his lips.  His sharp eyes were fixed on Orion.

“So,” Perseus said softly.  “Can you pay?”

Orion sat back in his chair, his eyes focused on the label of his beer.  It was probably lost on the others, but Solaris could feel the grief-stricken tension tightening the small man’s body.  Solaris licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, not even sure what he was going to say, when Orion sat up and pulled his ID card from his pocket.  He ran his thumb over the touch screen, going through a series of commands.  Then he held it out toward Cetus.

“Seriously?!”

This cry of surprise came from Circinus.  Solaris wished he’d let him go to the massage parlor after all.  It would be easier to post his bail and get him out of jail than to explain how it was that Orion had 2000 spare credits laying around to pay off a bet.  Cetus had just howled with laughter and pulled out his own ID card.  He pulled up his own account and then aimed the IR port of his card at Orion’s.  A couple of clicks later and the deal was done.  Cetus sat back in his chair again, snickering with glee as he watched his balance practically double.

“What can I say?” Orion shrugged.  “You were right.”

“Of course I was!”  He pounded the table again, causing it to finally break and collapse to the floor, and Ara to sit up in disgust.

“Hey!” came a shout from the bar.  “You’re paying for that!”

Cetus sneered at Orion.  “That’s fine.  I’ve got a little extra money to blow.”

“Yeah?  I’m sure you’ve got a whole list of things to blow.”

Cetus was on his feet in a millisecond, his chair hitting the floor, his fingers narrowly missing Orion’s throat as Solaris launched himself in between them, twisting the monster’s arm enough to get him to back off but with nowhere near enough strength to do any real damage.  Solaris quickly stepped out arm’s length as he grabbed Circinus by a shoulder strap and shoved him away from the table.  He turned a glare on Volpecula.

“Volpecula, we do not need to do this.  Get him under control.”

Volpecula stuck a finger in his ear to dig out some wax, and then carefully examined the yellow gunk on the tip as he said, “We’re on shore leave, Req.  I have no control over what he does in his free time.  If he feels like smashing in your face again, I certainly won’t be bothered by it.  In fact, I could use the entertainment.”

Cetus grinned at his captain’s words, the bloodlust that kept permanent residence in his heart rapidly rising to his eyes.  Solaris took more steps away, putting himself more squarely in front of Circinus and waving an arm to indicate to the pilot to either get back or get away.  He really wished Orion would do more than sit in his chair like he had a death wish.  It’d been two and a half years since Gemma’s death.  Bringing her up now shouldn’t still affect him this way.  At least, Solaris thought it shouldn’t.  Cetus cracked his neck as he started forward.  He was going for Solaris.  Even though Orion had been the one to light his very short fuse, Cetus never missed an opportunity to murder Solaris.

“Volpecula,” Ara started laconically, “I would advise against letting Cetus take away his usefulness to us at this moment.”

Volpecula turned his eye to the informant, but didn’t put up a fuss or even question him.  If Ara said something was useful then it was best to hold onto it.  Volpecula flicked his ear wax off his finger.

“Cetus.”

“What?!” the man roared and turned on his captain.  “Every time I try to murder this son of a bitch pain in our asses, you always stop me!”

“Oh, so you’re saying he does have control over you?” Orion chuckled.

Solaris gnashed his teeth.  It they got out of this alive he would murder the spore later himself.  Cetus was of a mind to murder him now and turned on him, grabbing him by the throat and yanking him out the chair.  Their difference in size was so great that Cetus’ meaty hand practically wrapped completely around Orion’s throat.  Solaris was relieved to see Orion struggle and try to claw his way free from the man; at least he wasn’t really suicidal.

“Fuck,” Solaris growled and pulled out the weapon he’d hidden at the small of his back.  No sooner did he have the barrel trained on Cetus’ nicely large target of a head than the sights of Perseus’ gun was right between his eyes.  Nobody moved, except Orion who flopped like a weak fish and made soft hacking sounds as he tried to draw a breath.

“I love a standoff as much as the next guy,” Solaris said, “but this one will end really quickly if Orion ends really quickly.”

Solaris hardened his eyes and considered turning the gun on Volpecula and just firing.  Sure they would all wind up dead, but at least he’d take the thorn in his paw with him.

“Put him down, Cetus,” Volpecula said, seeing his imminent death in Solaris’ eyes.

“Damn it, Asp!  You never let me—”

“Now, you cretin!  You are one tybx hair away from finding a new employer!”

Cetus bared his teeth at his employer, but dropped Orion.  He hit the floor hard and gasped for air.  Solaris was sorely tempted to just shoot the monster, but he was responsible for Orion and Circinus’ lives right now.  He scowled.  This is why he hated steady crews.  He never had been able to outgrow his annoying habit of getting attached to things.  With extreme reserve, he slowly lowered his weapon, and started to step back to show he was backing down.  He couldn’t move because he found that Circinus was pressed against his back, shivering so violently he could feel it through his whole body.  Solaris had forgotten that despite the danger and risk and violence most of the rest of his crew had seen over the last two years, Circinus had only heard stories.  He was still a child in the same way Orion had never been one.

Solaris watched the rest of Volpecula’s crew finally start to make their way back across the room to join the situation.  His only way out was through words.  He rubbed a couple of fingers against his temple as the headache he felt every time he got royally screwed started to spring up.

“Volpecula, may I have a word with Solaris in private?” Ara asked, the only one besides Volpecula still seated.

Volpecula turned in his seat so that he could look full on his crew member.  “Ara, you’ve never been wrong and to the best of my knowledge you’ve never betrayed me.  Which is why I’m going to allow you to have your word, which will of course lead to Req, Ash, and whoever that shivering little bitch is to get away.  Serpens may be right; I may be bored.  But Solaris Req is not the answer to my problem.  And I would rather have him dead than meddling.  So whatever use you think he may be to us alive had better be something real good.”

Ara declined his head slightly in submission.  “Understood, Captain.”

Volpecula kept the man under the intense scrutiny of his blue eye for several long seconds, and then he turned to Cetus.

“Bring another table over here, you unstable menace.”

Cetus kept his glare on Solaris and turned to get another table, and probably would have stomped on Orion in the process if Solaris hadn’t ordered him off the floor.  Orion staggered to his feet and lurched toward Solaris.  Solaris caught him by the arm to keep him steady.  He could already see an angry bruise purpling under the skin of his neck.

Ara stood up and looked at Solaris.  “Can we have that word now?”

“Sure thing.  Just let me…take care of a couple of things.”

He walked backward, forcing Circinus toward the door and pulling Orion after him.  He only moved away from Circinus in order to push Orion and him into the door.

“Are you sure you have to leave, cutie?” Leo asked, scraping some dirt out from under a nail with a rather large knife.

“Places to go, you know,” Solaris answered for his pilot.

“One more thing, Orion,” Cetus called out, almost pleasantly.

Orion actually turned back.  Solaris could have sworn his instincts were better than that.  Fortunately for his first mate, his were just fine.  The shot probably would have been through the shoulder and not done much damage, but there was still a good chance it could have torn the ligaments or even shattered the joint if it was too high.  Solaris pulled him mostly out of the way, but the large caliber bullet still tore a large chunk of meat out of the side of his arm.  He barely flinched, didn’t make a sound, but Solaris could see the blood drain from his face even under his dark skin.  Circinus looked like he might break into hysterics at any moment, but he clamped a hand over the wound and held it tightly.

“Cetus,” Volpecula sighed.

“What?  Ara said Req was the useful one.  I assumed Orion minus an arm wouldn’t be a deal breaker.”

“Well, there you go thinking again.  That’s not what I pay you for.”

Cetus growled softly and plunked a table in front of his captain.  The rest of his crew pulled chairs up and sat down around the dilapidated table.  The bartender finally arrived on the scene with a pulse weapon.

“What the blazes is going on here?  This is a Clean Source run planet, you dipshits.  They get wind of this and I get nailed with the rest of you.”

“Don’t worry,” Volpecula said.  “The troublemakers are leaving.  We’ll behave now.  Do you think you could ask some locals to stop by?”

That was universal code for tell the local prostitutes paying customers have arrived.

The bartender frowned and looked around at the group.  “Fine.  But you better run up a good tab.”

“Consider it done.  Boys, first two rounds are on Cetus tonight.”

“What the—!”

Solaris pushed Circinus and Orion out the door.  Circinus had stripped off his shirt and tied it tightly around Orion’s arm.

“Solaris, he’s bleeding a lot,” he whispered hoarsely.

“It’s okay.  We’re close to the ship.  Vela can patch him up.  Just make sure he gets there, okay?  Help him out.”

Circinus nodded and wiped his nose with the back of his arm.  “Okay.  You get one side and I’ll get the other.”

“I have to stay and talk to Ara.”

Circinus turned frightened eyes on the verge of panic toward him.

“You’re not coming with us?”

“I’m right behind you.  Just a quick conversation, okay?  You can make it.  It’s not far.”

“But—”

“Circinus,” Solaris said as gently as his gruff voice could manage.  He reached out a hand to hold his face for a moment, and then slid his fingers behind the young man’s neck, giving him a firm, reassuring, little shake.  “It’s okay.  It’s just those guys in there.  This planet isn’t dangerous.  You’re safe out here.  And shoot, even wounded Orion can kick just about anybody’s ass.  Okay?  But right now, I need you to take care of him for me.  Please, Circinus.”

Circinus nodded, but didn’t look anywhere near calm.  Then he took in a couple of deep breaths.  He closed his eyes and leaned ever so slightly into Solaris’ hand, taking strength from his steadiness.  Then he straightened his shoulders and opened his eyes.  Solaris felt relief seeing the calm and cool look he got in his eyes when piloting the Blank through sticky situations.

“I got it.  No problem.  Be careful.”

“Always am.  Now head on.”  He patted Circinus' cheek and then stepped back toward the bar.  He turned once to look at Orion.

“You and I need to talk later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Orion grumbled.

Circinus started to lean down so that Orion could hook his good arm around his shoulders, but the man walked away from him.

“I don’t need that.  Yet.”

Circinus frowned but allowed Orion to walk under his own power.  He set a quick pace which Circinus thought might be bad for him,  but he wasn’t about to ask him to slow down.  He only looked back once and saw Solaris speaking with the peacekeeper outside the bar.  At least, Circinus assumed someone that beautiful had to be a peacekeeper.  But then again, why would a peacekeeper have that much sway with a ship’s captain?  Nobody fell in love with peacekeepers; they were the coldest people in the Galaxy.

Circinus looked at the shirt on Orion’s arm: it was saturated.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked uneasily.  He’d never felt comfortable around Orion to begin with, and now he was like a wounded animal.  And he knew from experience that wild things were usually more dangerous when they were hurt and scared.  He couldn’t believe he’d actually touched Orion moments before.  He hadn’t even been thinking about what he was doing.  Fortunately he hadn’t received the same treatment he’d gotten the last time he’d made physical contact with the man.

“I’m kind of okay,” Orion said, clenching a fist.  “I’ll let you know if I need help.  And don’t worry.”  He looked at Circinus and gave him a weak smile.  “I won’t punch you.”

Circinus smiled back.  “Okay, then.”

They walked for a couple more minutes and made it back to the docks before Orion reached for him.  Circinus bent down so that he could get under Orion’s short stature.  He thought it might actually be easier if he could just princess carry him the rest of the way to the ship, but he figured that would probably get him punched.  So, he grimaced quietly as he bent awkwardly to stay under Orion’s shoulder.  By the time they were walking up the gangway to the Blank, Circinus had moved an arm around Orion’s waist and was mostly carrying him against his side.  He weighed nothing.  Just before he shut the bay door, Circinus glanced back toward the town.

“He’ll be fine,” Orion rasped out, his eyes rolling around in his head.  Then he went limp.

“Ah, blazes,” Circinus grumbled.  Well, if he was unconscious, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  He scooped Orion up into his arms and walked as fast as he could to the metal stairs that led out of the bay.  He wanted to run, but he knew that even though Orion was light, he would be panting by the time he reached the top of the stairs and he still had get to the back of the ship and up another level.

Thankfully Vela was in the med bay, humming to himself as he cleaned and sharpened his tools.  Circinus staggered in under the suddenly heavy weight and barely made it to the examining table before his arms gave out on him.  The thump down made Orion groan and wake up.  Vela turned mid-polish of a bone saw and looked at the people invading his sanctuary.  He took in the scene of a panting pilot and a first mate woozy from blood loss.  He let out a low whistle.

“Well.  You boys can’t go anywhere without starting a ruckus, can you?”

Orion started to laugh and then winced.  “Story of our lives.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Vela put down the saw and stood up to wash his hands.  He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Circinus?  Be a peach and get me antiseptic and gauze from that cabinet behind you.”

Circinus did as he was told and Vela picked up a sharp pair of scissors.

“Cirney, do you want this shirt back?”

Circinus dropped off the supplies next to Orion’s body.  He shook his head no vigorously.

“Good.”

Vela began to cut the shirt off and let out another low whistle as he got his first look at the wound.  He glanced up and saw Circinus’ face stricken with worry and helplessness.  He decided to distract the kid.

“Blondie, has anyone ever told you you should go around without a shirt more often?”

“My cousin.”

Vela tilted his head.  Circinus kept his straight face.  Vela looked at Orion.  They hid their smiles and then Orion barked out a yelp as the medic poured a large splash of rubbing alcohol over the wound to clean it.

“Shit a brick, Vela!  What the—ahh!”  He screamed again as he received another dose.

“I told Eqquleus to add some supplies for me to her list.  We’re low on certain things.  Solaris said we could spare the credit.”  Vela looked at Circinus.  “He is coming back, isn’t he?”

Circinus’ face crumbled.  “I don’t know!”

“He’s fine,” Orion ground out.  “We just ran into—some old friends.”

“Ah.  I know what you mean,” Vela chuckled.  “Circinus, pet, can you wipe down the wound, please, with some gauze?”

“No,” Orion said.  “Go get Cetus.”

Circinus stiffened.  His jaw quivered for a moment and then he squared his shoulders.  “Okay.  I’m not good with a gun, but if I get close enough I’m pretty deadly with a knife.”

Vela started.  “Cetus did this?”

Orion laughed, and then groaned.  He sighed amusedly and then smiled at Circinus.

“I appreciate that, really.  But you wouldn’t get very far against Cetus with a knife.  I’m not sending you to your death for revenge.  I’m asking you to find our Cetus.  Cetus Syc.”

“Oh.”  Circinus blushed in embarrassment.  “Right.  Why?”

“I would just feel better if he were aware that we had some unfriendliness in the area.”

“I thought they were old friends,” Vela teased as he wiped the gash clean enough so that he could begin his stitches.

Orion ignored the comment and asked, “Do you know where he is?  Is he still sulking about the wax?”

“Oh, no.  I already had the solvent for that made.  I just wanted to shut him up for a few hours.  I dissolved it and he said he was going to go find some ‘company.’”

“That bast—” Orion cut off as he gritted his teeth when the suture staple gun made its first stitch.  He waited a couple more clicks to get used to the feeling before speaking again.  “He was supposed to stay with you and the ship.”

“He said he wasn’t going to go far.  Just to the end of the dock to pick one up and then he would bring her back and do her around our mooring somewhere.”

“The end of the dock?” Circinus frowned.  “They’re underage there.”

“Well, that’s what Cetus prefers.”

“Just, get him,” Orion ordered.

Circinus nodded and started to leave.

“Hey, Circinus?”

The pilot turned back.  For some reason, probably because he was so small, Orion looked really fragile.  It made Circinus’ heart hurt.

“Yeah?”

“You were willing to go after that monster for us.  I won’t forget that.”

Circinus was surprised for a moment, and then he felt an inane sense of pride for being praised.  He shook himself and hurried out the door.

Vela whistled again and checked his handiwork.  The sutures were tight and even, leaving a very neat line considering how ragged the wound had been.  With proper care it probably wouldn’t even scar.  He walked over to a cabinet to take out an antiseptic and numbing balm.

“That boy is so strange,” he heard Orion mumble.  “I thought he was a fugitive, but violence nearly paralyzes him.”

Vela gently applied the balm.  “There are a lot of things that could make someone a fugitive from The Clean Source that don’t involve violence.”

Orion met his eyes.  “Such as?”

“And why are you calling him ‘boy?’”  He started to wrap Orion’s arm.  “He’s five years older than you.”

Orion grunted.  “Doesn’t seem like it, does it?”

Vela chuckled and tore the self-adhesive gauze.  He gently squeezed Orion’s arm to secure it in place.  As he was putting up the supplies, he saw Orion attempt to sit up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Why n—”  Orion swooned and thumped back onto the table.

Vela went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of Orion’s own blood.  He made a point to get the crew members to donate a unit of their own blood every six months or so for exactly these instances.  As he began to set up the IV, Orion could feel his consciousness floating around on him as the lights dimmed and brightened.

“Vela…?”

“Yes, little one.”

“Have you ever lost everything?”

“Mm.  And then some.  Once you’ve lost everything and think you have nothing left to lose, you discover there’s something else you have that someone wants to take from you.”

“How did you keep on…living?”

“Living.  Well, it’s more like surviving.”

“Is that worth it?”

“Mm?”

“Just…surviving?  Is that really living?”

“No, no it’s not.”

“Then, don’t you want to live again?”

“Oh, I do.  And I am now.  I have my life back.  Well, a life anyway.  Here on the Blank.”

“So, you lost everything…and got something new with us?  Ow.”

“Sorry, love, it’s in now.  You’ll feel better soon.”

“Don’t drug me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“So, it’s possible?  To get it back?”

“No, sweetest.  Once it’s gone, it’s gone.  But you can get something new.  And sometimes, just sometimes, it’s better than what you had.”

“Really?”

“Mm.  Orion, kitten, I don’t know what it is you lost, though I can understand your pain perfectly, but I don’t believe you’ve ever been where I’ve been.”

“Oh,” Orion slurred, feeling the pain slip away and the light hurting his eyes less.  “So, you’re the only one who’s been through the worst that can happen.”

“No, dear one.  Certainly not.  But as long as you still have Solaris, I refuse to believe that you’ve ever lost everything.”

Orion blinked and it seemed to take a year to happen.  “You’re right.”

Vela brushed Orion’s bangs back from his forehead as he slipped into drug-induced sleep.  He picked up the bloody gauze and shirt and threw them away in the medical incinerator.

“Vela, do you have—”

Vela turned at Ankaa’s voice and saw the Antecedent standing in the doorway looking appalled.

“What in the Galaxy happened here?!”

Vela shrugged.  “I don’t know.  What can I do for you?”

“Vela!  You can’t lie to me!  If they got involved with something in town I have to report it!  This planet is Clean Source run!  I can’t protect them if I don’t know what happened!”

Vela washed his hands again and leaned against the counter as he dried them off.  Ankaa glanced at Orion.

“He’s unconscious, right?”

Vela grinned.  “Don’t worry, doll, your secret is safe with me.”

Ankaa crossed her arms, her long hair slipping seductively around her crimson dress.  “You shouldn’t address me so familiarly.”

“You don’t mind when the captain does.”

“I don’t mind?” Ankaa scoffed in disbelief.  “I certainly do and tell him so!  Frequently.”

“Aw, sure.  You huff and name call back, but come on.  You don’t _mind_.”

“Mr. Kym, I’d appreciate it if you could show me the respect an Unpure should show their betters.”

Vela let a condescending smile slide up one side of his face as he wound his long, dark braid around his fingers.  “What makes you so sure that you’re the highest born person on this ship?”

Ankaa dropped her arms and opened her mouth.  Then she closed it.  Then she said, “Because…”

“Because we’re all poor?  Because we all avoid The Clean Source?  Because we treat Unpures with respect we must be one too?”

Vela saw the muscles in her jaw tighten.  “Aren’t you?”

“Well, sure.  I am.  There was never a doubt of my low-breeding, right?”

Vela gave Ankaa a wink and dropped his braid.  He moved away from the counter to check the IV drip.  He looked up and saw Ankaa still standing in the doorway.

“You came here for something, right?  What did you need?”

“I—”  She curled her delicate fingers into a fist.  “I need nothing.”  She turned on her heel and left.

Vela smiled.  “Nothing, huh?  I can think of at least fifteen centimeters of something you need.”


	5. Sly Spy

Solaris squeezed the handle of his gun painfully tightly as he watched Orion and Circinus head back to the ship.  He supposed he owed Ara some gratitude for getting them out of a tense situation.  Well, getting them out of it easily.  He wasn’t convinced the situation had been completely dire, but out of the all people in the Galaxy to owe a favor to, Ara was moderately acceptable.  But if what he had to talk to him about wasn’t worth his time and kept him from accompanying his crew back to the ship…he was going to get a little testy.

He turned and looked back at the bar.  Ara was leaning against the wall with his palms pressed flat against the metal siding.  Solaris’ mood was dark enough that he couldn’t appreciate the pretty picture Ara was painting for him with his body.

“What, Ara?”

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

“No.”

“Well, at least come closer so I can talk softer.”

Solaris clenched his jaw but moved closer, slowly, carefully.  Ara remained perfectly still, non-threatening.    For some reason, that made Solaris more nervous.  He stood a couple feet away from Ara and leaned against the wall of the bar.  He watched Ara’s eyes move around as he examined his face.

“You should keep the beard.”

“Ara, I don’t have time for your bullshit.  In what possible way am I useful to Volpecula Asp?”

“Oh, you’re not.  What’s useful is that my captain and his crew not be associated with your death and definitely not identified as your murderers.”

Solaris blinked in disgust.  “Is that it?  Who the fuck would care?  Do I have a bounty on my head and I’m being stalked by some super mercenary?”

Ara smiled and strummed his fingers against the wall once.

“No one gives a shit if Solaris Req dies in a ditch.  But Sun Cy…that could cause us some problems.”

There was a high-pitched irritating whine pounding through his ears in time with the blood pulsing in his veins.  The tone got higher and higher pitched until suddenly all the tension in his body snapped.  There were the sounds of the town again.  A cool breeze on his skin.  The hard wall beneath his shoulder.  Ara smiled softly and the spell was broken.

“Who the hell is Sun Cy?” Solaris questioned.

Ara shrugged gracefully.  “Someone whose bad side I don’t want to be on.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Or, at least, his family’s.”

Ara raised a hand slowly so as not to spook his tense companion and brushed a short lock of hair back behind his ear.  Solaris focused on the deep, but short arrowheads branded onto his arms; the only mar to an otherwise perfect body.  He never tried to cover them up.  He wasn’t ashamed of his origins.

“Look, Ara, we’re going to the Resort System, and never coming back.  So, tell Volpecula to relax.  And if you’re worried about an altercation, send us a notice of when Amity will be out that way, and we’ll make sure to make ourselves scarce.”

Ara’s brow creased in mild confusion.  “Run away?  From Volpecula?  Why?  Isn’t he one of the playmates you like spending time with?”

“Not anymore.”

“What happened two years ago?  What happened to make you and Orion so changed?  So calm, so reserved.  I heard about Gemma’s death, but what in the Galaxy happened that it took the life out of your eyes?”

Solaris gave him a nasty smile.  “Isn’t that your job to know?”

Ara frowned at him.  “I did try to find out.  Volpecula wanted to know where the blazes you were.  So, I looked into it.  Everything that happened during and after the random Inspection of The Way Home was scrubbed.  Completely scrubbed.  I couldn’t dig up anything.  The only records left are that Orion and Ursa were in a prison hospital, but there’s no record of them being in prison.  And there’s no record of Solaris Req being admitted to that hospital, but he was booked a ticket on a cruise ship out of the Home Plate System with Orion and Ursa.  Even if you weren’t admitted to the hospital, there had to be some record of you arriving on Left Field.  They couldn’t possibly scrub that.  But, it was gone.  No record of Solaris Req at all until he departed Left Field.  So, I went back and took a look at the records again, and imagine my surprise when Sun Cy was admitted at the same date and time as Orion and Ursa.  I was so surprised in fact, that I couldn’t believe it.  It wasn’t possible.  But…then I started thinking.  That would explain how you guys got out of some scrapes and got information and equipment and help at the most convenient times.”

“I never—”  Solaris cut off.  Not that he hadn’t already given himself away, but there was no sense in saying it outright.  Plausible deniability was still on his side.  But he hated the thought of someone—anyone—thinking that he traded on his true name for anything.

Ara searched his face again.  “You look nothing like your picture.  Of course, the last one taken of Sun Cy was when he was eighteen years old.”  Solaris didn’t respond.  The conversation should be over now anyway.  “What happened to Gemma?  And the rest of the crew?  I don’t recognize the names of anyone registered on your ship other than Orion and Ursa.”

“Again, isn’t this something you and your great skills and connections should be able to find out on your own?”

“Solaris, I’m not your enemy.”

“No?  You’re trying real hard to make it that way.”

Ara blinked surprise.  “Because I know who you are?”

“Because you think you do.  And you think that information is useful.  Or profitable.  But the thing is, Ara Exx, if you die in a ditch somewhere, there might be some powerful people who will be very upset about that.  But I guarantee you none of them outrank Sun Cy.  In fact…”

Solaris reached out a hand and gently grasped Ara’s arm.  He ran his thumb over the smooth, hardened lines of the brands on his skin.

“Are you sure you’re so eager to push this insane claim of yours that I’m a Cy?  As I just read on a recent Bulletin, all freed slaves can be reclaimed by the owning family, at any time for any reason.”

Solaris looked up and met Ara’s eyes.  His jaw was so tense he could hear the man’s teeth squeaking inside his head.

“I also heard that the Wu family, who uses this arrowhead brand, recently sold off their entire human stock to the Cy family.”

Ara snatched his arm away.  “I don’t belong to anyone or anything.”

Solaris smiled tightly.  “I guess you and I have more in common than we realized.”  The smile vanished from his face.  “Don’t push me, Ara.  I’m not hiding.  My family knows where I am, so I’m not afraid to make official claims in my true name.  And I will if you make my life unpleasant.  Do you understand?”

Ara took a step away, his eyes near tears.  Solaris couldn’t blame him; the Wu family was notorious for the mistreatment of their property.

“If you’re not in hiding, why use an alias?”

“Well, that’s a stupid question isn’t it?”  Solaris looked toward the docks.  “Look, I’ve got to go check on Orion, so unless you have something else—”

“No, nothing.”

“Good.”  Solaris cocked his head as he looked at Ara.  “You know, maybe I _should_ claim you.  Have you spy on Volpecula for me.  But, that’d probably take most of the fun out of our encounters.  Though if Cetus takes another shot at one of my crew members, we’re going to have some serious problems.  You let Volpecula know that.”

From the enraged distress on his face, Ara clearly hadn’t heard anything past Solaris’ hypothetical claim.  “You should know, Thuban Wu—the last person to lay claim on me—died by my hand.”

Solaris couldn’t help but smile.  “I heard old Thuban died of natural causes.”

“Clean Source intelligence officer training covers a myriad of topics.”

Solaris laughed.  “Does it?”

Ara wasn’t finding the humor in their conversation that Solaris was.  Solaris was still angry about Cetus, and it didn’t really matter who he hurt as long as it was an Amity crew member.  He reached out a hand and gently grasped Ara under the jaw, tilting his head up until Ara’s dark, glittering eyes were locked by his own.

“Do you really think it would be so bad to be owned by me?  Even if I were to take the same liberties as Thuban, you know I’d be much more…tender.”

Solaris had never seen Ara like this before: weak, insecure, broken.  He must be furious, murderous even, but nearly two decades of a slave mentality overpowered less than a decade of freedom and prevented him from raising a hand against someone who could be his master.  For even though Ara claimed to have killed Thuban, and Solaris believed him, the old bastard hadn’t died until after the livestock transfer between the Wu and Cy families, ie: after Thuban was no longer Ara’s owner but just another Clean Source scumbag.

“S-S…” Ara couldn’t get out his name.  Solaris wasn’t sure which one he was trying for.  He let him go.

“Relax, Ara.  I’ve no interest in owning anyone.  I’ve no interest in being involved with my family’s business or holdings.  I’ve been away for over 15 years, and I plan to stay away until I die, okay?  Please let me be Solaris Req.  That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

Ara nodded.  “Sorry.”

“No apology necessary.  If I knew something that juicy about someone, I’d probably try to play sly spy too.”

“That’s not what I was doing.”

“Wasn’t it?”  Solaris pushed off from the wall and turned to head for the docks.  “Oh, just a warning: you might want to start wearing sleeves.  I’ve heard the Cys are trying to collect all the freed Wu slaves to take inventory and potentially press them into service again.”

“They couldn’t!” Ara screamed.  He checked himself quickly, and then glanced around.  There didn’t seem to be anyone in the immediate area, but he lowered his voice to little more than a whisper.

“I’ve been scrubbed.  Completely.  There’s no record of me let alone who I ever belonged to.  I even had my chip removed.”

“Ah.  That was very kind of The Clean Source to do that for you.  Tell me, did they give you a replacement chip?”

Ara was rapidly recovering from his breakdown.  One couldn’t survive being an intelligence officer, let alone slavery, unless one could compartmentalize and deliberately forget.

“Not having a chip at all gives me more freedom than one saying I’m so important I can’t be touched.”

“Mm-hm.  So, you have no chip saying that you’re a slave, but you also have no chip saying you’re not.  All you’ve got are slave brands on your arms that say you belong to the Wu Clan (and consequently the Cy Family)…and no way to refute it.  And no way to prove you were ever freed.  Hm.  Do you think your former friends in The Clean Source would be willing to vouch for you?”

Ara clasped his hands in front of himself and composed his face to a blank mask.  His eyes still had just a touch of terror in them; like he didn’t quite believe Solaris wasn’t really going to try to claim him.

“If I needed The Clean Source’s protection I’d still be with them.  They paid very well.  But after I realized I could make more money—and be safer from them—I left.  With their blessings, of course.  I’m not as stupid as some.”

Solaris laughed and shook his head.  “What?  Is my picture on the tybx juice carton?  I told you: my family knows exactly where I am.  And they are more than happy to let me stay here.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

“Yeah, maybe.  My mother’s been itching for me to get married for about thirteen years now.”

Ara laughed.  “Is that why Niece Princess Rhea isn’t married yet?”

Solaris shrugged.  “Women are funny things.  One minute they’re saying they love you like no other…the next they’re asking for their money because time’s up.”

Ara partially rolled his eyes.  “Charming.”

“Look, I really need to get to Orion now, so…”

“Are you a medic?  What’s the rush?”

“Quite frankly, I don’t like you, Ara.”

“Yeah?”

“And the feeling’s mutual, right?”

“Not at all.  In fact, I think I adore you.”

Solaris rolled his eyes and started to walk away.  “Flattered, but I’m not into men.”

Ara chuckled.  “Typical Pure.  Always thinking about sex.”

Solaris kept walking but looked back over his shoulder, his snarling glare letting Ara know exactly what he thought about being called a Pure.

“Never believe that I’m not good at what I do, Solaris.  I know for a fact you’ve been _into_ plenty of men.”

“Always business.  Anything to get a job done.”

“What about Earth?”

Solaris kept walking, not having a response to Ara’s question.  He hadn’t the slightest idea what “Earth” was.


	6. Sex as Payment

Circinus jogged down the gangway of the Blank, his boots thudding dully on the wood of the dock.  Leevee was a rare specimen of a planet; it was one of only three in the Galaxy that moored high-thrusting ships to a flammable dock.  Circinus glanced around the immediate area, wondering where he should begin his search.  Then he realized his ears could be his guide.  He walked toward the edge of the ship and turned the corner onto the very narrow strip of jetty that separated the Blank from the ship next to it.  Sixty centimeter wide swaying, rotting planks in the deep shadows of the tall ships were all that separated him from the fifteen meter drop on either side into the trenches that served as the slips.  This didn’t cause Circinus to bat an eyelash.  He’d worked on and in ships since before he could remember attending school.  So while guns could render him petrified, heights were almost a comfort.

He weaved his way around the precariously stacked crates and barrels that were more than likely the property of the ship next to the Blank.  But, if they didn’t load their goods soon, Circinus saw a beautiful external satellite locator that would be replacing the one they lost on entry earlier in the afternoon.  He continued to follow the sounds that had grabbed his attention from the front of the ship.  At first it had just been short, breathy cries of pleasure, but as soon as he’d turned the corner the sound of a metal crate centimetering its way across a wooden dock in a rhythmic pattern had become discernible.  Now Circinus was close enough to pick up the telltale sounds of flesh smacking flesh.  He was pretty impressed with Cetus.  Circinus had been with enough professionals to know the difference between when they were faking it and when they too were enjoying it—and this girl was _enjoying_ it.

He found them almost at the very end of the slip.  Cetus had the girl up against two stacked crates, the higher crate far enough back that just enough of the girl’s weight was on the bottom one so that Cetus was free to really have at her.  Circinus hung back for a couple of minutes, not uncomfortable around the proceedings (he’d grown up in a whorehouse after all), but figuring they would be finishing up soon.

Circinus took a moment to examine Cetus; it was nearly impossible to do when his attention wasn’t completely preoccupied.  He threw things at people who he felt were looking at him funny.  Or too long.  And his very dark eyes missed nothing.  They were so dark in fact, they stood out from his face like he had fair skin.  But his skin was a golden tan color, similar to Circinus’ own, only Cetus’ was a little rougher from more exposure to sun and wind.  He wasn’t all that big considering his job, but he was big enough to be intimidating before really freaking people out with his quickness.  Circinus could see his hard muscles working tirelessly as he moved in the girl, even through his clothes.  The girl let out another yelp of ecstasy and grabbed a fistful of Cetus’ short brown hair.  Now she had Circinus’ attention.  Small, slim, not very busty, but she had lovely creamy-chocolate colored skin.  Her dark hair was in pigtails—probably to make her look younger.  Though she couldn’t have been much older than sixteen.

Circinus repressed a sigh.  This was taking forever.  After what seemed like the girl had finished close to three times and Cetus didn’t seem like he would need to stop anytime soon, Circinus decided to make his presence known.  He stepped right up to them and tapped Cetus’ shoulder.

The girl screamed in alarm as she opened her eyes upon wondering why her client had stopped.  Cetus had the barrel of his gun flat against Circinus’ forehead.  Circinus had his arms straight up in the air in surrender.  Cetus made a contemptuous face and lowered the gun.

“What the fuck do you want, Circ?”

“Um.  Orion sent me.”

“Unh-huh.”  He holstered the gun.  “You can put your arms down now.”

“Right.  Aren’t you supposed to be watching the ship?”

Cetus indicated the ship forty-five centimeters from his reach.  “It’s right there.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Circ.  I got twenty minutes left.  Beat it.  Unless you want to take her place.”

“Really don’t.  Um.  Orion wants you to be aware that we’ve got—well, some unfriendliness in the area.”

“How unfriendly?”

“Orion got shot.”

Cetus let out a noise that was somewhere between irritation and peevishness.

“Every time we get shore leave those two have got to stir something up.  Can’t a man get an honest fuck?”

“Yeah, because screwing children is honest.”

“I’m twenty,” the girl said hastily.

“Yeah, and I got a meter long cock.  Look, I think we’re gonna have to leave sooner rather than later and it would be best if you could keep stowaways from joining us.  If you know what I mean.”

“I rarely do.”

“Cetus.  Put it away.  Let’s go.”

“But, I got twenty minutes left!”

“Eighteen and half,” the girl corrected, showing the running stopwatch on her wrist.

“Damn it,” Cetus growled.  He backed away from the girl and hitched his pants up.  The girl slid off the crate and her knees buckled before she caught herself and stood again.  She smiled at Cetus.

“You know, since it was so much fun, I’ll only you charge for the forty minutes we got instead of the full hour.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Cetus muttered.  He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and began to thumb through his notes.

The girl looked at Circinus with some very unsettling sex kitten eyes.  “How about I show you around the docks while he guards your ship from the unpleasantness?”

“Aw, yeah, I would.  But, you kind of look like my sister.”

“Oh.”

Circinus found that telling a whore she looked like his sister was by far the most effective deterrent from their wheedling.  Even more so than telling them he was gay.

“Here,” Cetus grunted, thrusting several notes at the girl.  She looked at them disdainfully.

“What is that?”

“Your payment.”

“And what the blazes am I supposed to do with that?  This is a Clean Source run planet.  Everything, and I mean _everything_ , is done in credit.”

“Credit?!” Cetus bellowed.  “Credit for a quick poke in a public dumpster?”

Circinus rolled his lips in and looked away.  He’d spent most of his young life listening to his mother being talked to the same way, but this was about as harsh and vulgar as it could get.  The girl seemed to think so too.  She balled her hands into fists and stiffened her chin as much as possible to keep it from quivering.

“I told you up front that it was two for an hour,” she ground out in a remarkably steady voice.

“Yeah, but I thought you meant two holes.”

“Cetus, just pay already.”

“Forget it!  All credit transactions can be tracked.  I can’t pay her off my ID card!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t pick the underage ones.”

“I’m not underage!”

“Shut-up!” both men snapped at her.

“Do you have any blank cards on you?” Circinus asked.  “You could put it on there and give it to her.  And then there’s at least some deniability that she could have picked it up from anywhere.”

“Of course I don’t have any blank cards on me.  Do you?”

“Solaris might have some.”

“And where is he?”

Circinus looked down at the dock.  “I-I’m not sure if he’s even okay.”

“Wait, what?  What in the name of the Queen happened?”

“Hey!” the girl finally got her voice loud enough to interrupt them.  “You two are super dense, aren’t you?  We’ve been operating just fine on a Clean Source planet because we know how to get around them.  You can pay to an ID card registered in my madam’s name.  And it’ll be for my services as a tour guide.”

The two men looked at the young girl.  And then at each other.

“That’s pretty clever actually,” Circinus chuckled.

“Not really.  You two are just stupid.”

“You want a split lip to go with that credit?” Cetus snarled.

The girl stood her ground and held out her ID card.  Her hand shook only a little.  Cetus gnashed his teeth, but arranged the payment through his card.  The girl checked the transaction.

“This is only one and a half credits.”

“That’s forty minutes worth.  Now run along.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah?  And you’re a worn out cunt.”  He jerked his head down the jetty.  “Run along.”

The girl turned and ran away.  Circinus sighed as he watched her.  He looked at Cetus.

“What?” the man griped.

“Nothing,” Circinus said as they carefully walked single file back to the dock.  “It’s just, that’s why I don’t go for the young ones.  Not because I think they don’t know what sex is, or that I can’t appreciate that they still kind of enjoy the novelty of it, but because they haven’t quite figured out what the job really means.”

“I think she pretty firmly grasped the concept of sex for money.”

“Yeah.  But she still doesn’t get that she’s no longer a person.”

“What do you mean?”

They passed from out of the shadows of the ships and into the setting sun on the docks.  Circinus turned to face him and put a hand on Cetus’ chest to stop his movements.

“You called her a dumpster and a—and a very offensive word.  Because that’s all she is to you.  And that’s fine.  I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that.  But she doesn’t know it yet.  Well, you gave her a pretty strong clue today, but it’s kind of hard to take when you learn you rank even lower than a slave.”

Cetus shoved his hand away.  “Don’t be melodramatic.  I’m sure her madam and her little whore sisters treat her like family.  So what does it matter if I treat her like a whore?”

Circinus shrugged.  “I’m just saying that I understand what she’s going through and how she actually feels.  Because it doesn’t matter if there are people who are nice to her.  If someone like you—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Cetus laughed.  “You were a whore?  Before you were a pilot?  Or, ha!  Is that how you paid for flight school?”

“What?  No.  I wasn’t a whore.”

“Then how do you know how they feel?  Do you actually talk to them while you fuck them?”

“No.  My mother was a prostitute.  And even the love of her own child wasn’t enough to make her feel like she was worth anything more than a slightly preferable alternative to a man’s own hand.”

Cetus scratched the side of his head.  “So, is this supposed to make me feel sorry for them and not use them anymore?”

“No.  I mean, I use prostitutes.  Use them all you want.  They choose that life for themselves after all.  Well, most of them do.  I was just sharing with you why I never go for the young ones.  I hate dealing with all of that emotional trauma.  It’s much easier to get what you want when you’re with one that’s already numb to life.”

Cetus stared at him.  And then blinked.  “You know, you might actually be more callous than I am.”

Circinus laughed.  “No.  I—Solaris!”

Circinus ran down the dock toward his captain.  He didn’t appear to be injured, which was what he noticed first.  Secondly he noticed he wasn’t alone, and just barely stopped himself from throwing himself on the man.  He skidded to a halt and settled for taking his hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Hush,” Solaris said softly, and pulled him quickly toward the ship.  “Go inside.”

Circinus quickly ran up the gangway he’d very irresponsibly left down when he’d gone looking for Cetus.  He glanced over his shoulder and hoped that the unfriendliness hadn’t followed them to the ship.  He didn’t recognize the woman with Solaris, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t another “old friend” to whom Solaris and Orion owed 2000 in credit.

“Cetus,” Solaris greeted his pet bushwhacker.

Cetus let his eyes slide quickly over Solaris’ body.  Whatever trouble he’d gotten into hadn’t done him any physical harm.  He wondered if Circinus had been exaggerating events and Orion hadn’t even been shot.

“Solaris,” Cetus responded once he was satisfied his captain was unharmed and not under duress from his guest.  He looked at the woman.  She was too dark-skinned and too tall for Cetus to find her attractive, but he supposed her face wasn’t off putting to look at.  She was dressed plainly and a couple of steps above poorly.  He also didn’t like women who wore pants.

“Cetus, this is Sherriff Polaris Ni.  She decided to escort me back to my ship to see that I arrived here safely.”

“Well, that was mighty nice of her,” he replied, confused and a little ticked off that a Sherriff of Catseye was a Pure.  This planet really had gone to the tybx.

“Was that Capricorn Hew I just saw?” the Sherriff asked.

Cetus crossed his arms over his chest and just stared at her like she was a dumb bitch.  Which he thought she was.

The Sherriff cleared her throat.  “That girl, who ran out from the same slip you and another man came from shortly after, is named Capricorn.”

Cetus kept staring.

“She’s a prostitute.  And she’s fifteen.”

Solaris allowed his eyes to twitch upward since he knew the Sherriff was focused on Cetus and wouldn’t see the movement.  He frowned at Cetus who had moved his eyes just enough to glance at his captain.  He shifted his weight and spoke.

“She’s a tour guide.  She showed me around the docks.”

“Did she.”

“Yep.”

“Did she show you _all_ the sights?”

“From one end to the other.”

“Cetus,” Solaris broke in, “can you check and see if Ursa has come back yet?”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Cetus gave the Sherriff one more long, hard look and then clomped up the gangway.  Solaris gave the Sherriff a tight smile.  She wasn’t amused.  Solaris walked over to the hull and pushed the mechanism to close the gangway.  The Sherriff started in alarm as the large metal structure moved with lightning speed and flinched at the loud clang that resulted.  She looked at Solaris.

“You might want to have that fixed while you’re here.”

“Oh, we probably won’t be here long enough for that.”

“Is that so?  For some reason, I see your tenure here being quite long.”

“Maybe.  So, the tour guide thing…?”

The Sherriff huffed grumpily.  “Completely legit.  Somehow they always know when we send in a plant, so we’ve only ever been able to catch them giving tours of the docks.”

“Well, I don’t see how they would know if your men’s disguises are as good as yours.”

The Sherriff gave him a playful glare.  “Can we get on with this now?  The sooner we check on your ‘companion,’ the sooner we can go down to the station.”

“Let’s just go now.”

“Why Captain Req, is there a reason you don’t want me on your ship?”

“More than one.  But let’s go ahead to the station now.  While I still have only two people to get out of jail.”

“Very well,” the Sherriff smirked.

The two turned and walked in step together in the dim glow from the orangey sodium light posts that lined the docks.  The sun had completely set and the more unsavory citizens of Catseye were starting to slink about.

“Polaris, may I call you Polaris?”

“Certainly not.  An Unpure addressing a Pure Sherriff so familiarly is unheard of.”

“And yet for some reason, my rakish good looks and suggestive smile make it a little bit more bearable, doesn’t it?”

The Sherriff tried very hard not to smile, but did nothing to hide the appraising once over she gave his body.  They started down the main road to Catseye.

“Tell me, Sherriff Polaris, is it difficult garnering respect from the disreputable hooligans you have to govern with a face as beautiful as yours?  Or does that hard ass attitude of yours shine right through?”

“My, Captain Req, you know all of a girl’s right buttons to push.”

“Well, depends on the girl, but a woman like you is easy to read.”

“Am I?” she asked tartly.

“Oh, yes, Polaris.  I can see it in the way you keep pressing your thighs together.”

The Sherriff stopped walking and whirled on him, her eyes flashing a warning.

“You need something to stop the dripping.”

“And what in the Galaxy makes you think _you’re_ the one to stop it?”

Solaris smiled and pressed himself firmly against the Sherriff.  She shifted against him and lightly bit her lower lip.

“Oh.  That’s why.”


	7. Innocent for Once

Corvus looked up at the sun.  It would set in a couple more hours.  She looked at her brother.  He was carving a swan out of some plastic explosives.  They were in a pretty, public park with 20 meter tall trees and well preened shrubbery lining the footpaths.  It wasn’t very crowded—she’d only seen a handful of people over the last two hours—but she spoke in their first language just to be safe.  The odds of anyone knowing it were about 300,000:1, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary risks.

“So, where is this contact of yours, Cygnus?  We’ve been here for two hours already.”

“I never said he was reliable.”

“Do you even need me for this?  Because there are some things I would rather be doing.”

“Like what?” Cygnus asked as he carefully carved out some tail feathers.  “Orion Ash?”

Corvus held back her sigh and twisted a long dread around her finger.  “Just because I’ve found a male other than you that I can stomach doesn’t mean I’m sexually interested in him.”

“That’s true, sis.  But _Solaris_ is a man you can stomach and have no sexual interest in.  Orion is one that you want to peg.”

“He is not.”

“Then you want to spread for him.”

“Not really.  I just wonder what his hands feel like.  Not because I think he’s sooo cute or anything.  But have you seen the way he handles a gun?  Makes me wet.”

“Yeah, well, Solaris can build a bomb out of cleaning supplies and an exposed wire.  Doesn’t mean I wanna suck his cock.”

“I don’t see how you could with your face buried in that slut’s crotch all the time.”

“Eqquleus isn’t a slut.”

“Because you’re the only one on the ship she sleeps with?  You wait till she comes back from her three day excursion.  She’ll smell like another man.  Maybe more than one.”

“What do you want to bet?”

“Mm.  That grenade launcher you picked up on Vox’s Planet.”

“And if I win I want that black powder you ‘acquired’ on Persephone.”

“Only half.”

“Deal.”

Cygnus spit on his hand and extended it to his sister.  She spit into her palm and shook hands with her brother, sealing the deal.

“All right.  Well.  I’m going to go see if there’s a mud spa somewhere around here.”

Cygnus scoffed at her.  “You’re such a girl.”

Corvus scratched her crotch.  “So?  I am a girl.”

“Oh, wait.  Here he comes.”

Corvus rose from the bench and tied her dreads back with a well worn holster belt.  She used the movement to disguise her assessment of her brother’s contact.  He was real nasty looking.  Probably even for someone who liked men.  He was dirty with ragged, soiled clothing and thin, greasy hair.  He was picking his teeth with a toothpick: one of his upper premolars was missing and what she could see of his bottom teeth were gold.  He didn’t even try to hide the .22’s hanging from both hips.  His brows were bushy and set low over mean eyes.  Corvus moved behind the bench so that it and her brother would be between her and the man.  He made her feel even more uncomfortable than when Vela called her princess.

The man sauntered up to the bench.  He inclined his head at Cygnus and then turned his attention to Corvus.  She’d been told by every man she’d ever punched that if she didn’t want men ogling her she shouldn’t wear such provocative clothing.  Of course, men were such morons they couldn’t figure out that she dressed provocatively in order to provoke inappropriate behavior from them so she could punch them.  And it’s not like it took much; men were rutting pigs.  Just like this man who leered at her and clearly stroked himself through his pants pocket as he looked at her.

“So,” Cygnus said, trying to get the man’s attention, “I take it you’re here because you were able to acquire some unique products after all.”

The man turned his complete attention to Cygnus and shook his head.  “What?”

Cygnus sighed and exchanged looks with Corvus.  They thought the rest of the Galaxy’s accents were strange too, but they could still understand everyone.  Cygnus repeated what he said, slower and pronouncing each word carefully.

“Oh, yeah.  I got some stuff you might be interested in.  I’ll even cut you a discount if you’re willing to barter for it and not just pay in credit.”  He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Corvus.

“I don’t think you’ll get enough that way to give us much of a discount, so let’s just discuss the price after we see what it is you have to offer.”

The man frowned but sat down on the bench.  He glanced furtively around the area and then opened one side of his jacket.  Corvus leaned over the bench a bit to get a look at the goods.  Cygnus leaned back so that their faces were close together.  They spoke softly even though they spoke in their own dialect.

“Are those what I think they are?” Corvus asked, not being as familiar with explosives as guns.

Cygnus gave a curt nod.  “Yup.  E-9’s.  Size of my pinky nail but can take out a meter thick steel door.”

“What could something like that do to a man?”

“Well.  My guess is you would need a sponge to collect the remains.”

“What the hell is it made out of?”

“It’s just a hot burning accelerant surrounding a capsule of hydrogen gas.  You put fire to it and it burns so hot it actually causes the hydrogen protons to fuse and set off a mini nuclear explosion.”

“Whoa.  That’s super crazy.  That sounds like the kind of illegal even we won’t mess with.”

“Usually I would agree with you, but the less _he_ has the better.”

“Maybe.  But we’d be more than screwed if Solaris caught us with something like that.  We’d be out of a job and a home.  And I’m not ready for that again.  I like it on the Blank.”

“So, do I, but—”

“What the blazes are you two babbling about?” the man snapped.  “If you have questions or anything to discuss, you should talk to me.”

The twins ignored him.

“Well, it looks like he has some E-3’s and E-4’s.  We could buy a couple of those and then just say we can’t afford the E-9’s,” said Corvus.  “We don’t want him to think we saw them and have plans to report him.”

“Yeah, I guess.  But they could be useful.”

“And I’m telling you Solaris would need to know first before we brought them on board.”

“Well, we could buy them and then ask if we can bring them on board.”

“And then do what with them if he says no?”

Cygnus shrugged.  “Sell them I guess.  We’ll be here for another two days.  We could move them in that time.”

“To whom?  Cygnus.  We can’t sell this stuff to just anybody.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s more than just a little dangerous.”

“Since when do you care about damages and losses to property and life?” Cygnus said with a touch of irritation in is voice.

Corvus knew he didn’t like to be questioned about anything by anybody, but she’d dealt with that unreasonableness all her life.  So while most people who saw Cygnus start to lose his temper might back off quickly, Corvus brushed his childishness aside.

“I don’t give a tybx’s ass what happens to property or life that isn’t mine or yours.  So, what I’m concerned about is my life.  On board the Blank.  I’ll not jeopardize that for your curiosity and greed.”

“Why do you care about that wreck so much?” Cygnus growled.

“Because it’s the only place that’s felt like home to me since ours was set on fire.  Do you even remember home?”

“Not really.  And that’s by choice.”

Corvus rolled her eyes a little at that whiney retort.  The two of them were who they were because of that fiery night.  They lost everything that night: home, family, finances, security, innocence.  All of it gone in a few short hours.  Everything they did now was to have vengeance upon those who had taken it all from them: The Clean Source.  That’s why working with Solaris and Orion had been so appealing.  Their sole purpose in taking jobs was to do something that would hurt, or at the very least annoy, The Clean Source.  And at first that’s all it had been.  They were useful to the twins to help them seek their revenge.  But now, Corvus felt differently about the barely airworthy heap.  Sure, she and Cygnus could do some serious damage to The Clean Source—kill a lot of deserving officers and Antecedents—with just a few of the E-9’s that they could purchase today.  But that would mean coming out of the shadows and blasting themselves right into the top of the most wanted criminals in the Galaxy.  And that was the kind of attention Solaris had made clear was something he did not want.  He wanted to be a nuisance, nothing more.  He would leave them if they did something this brash.  And Corvus could see plainly before her the path that would lead to vengeful satisfaction, and the one that would lead her to the closest thing she had to friends other than Cygnus in years.  She wanted a connection more than she wanted revenge now.  She didn’t think her brother felt the same way.  She didn’t know how to tell him she would leave him behind and not make it seem like she was abandoning him or their Mission.

The man stood up abruptly.  “Look.  I thought you were interested in making a deal.  But if you two are stalling because you called someone out here—”

“Like who?” Cygnus shouted indignantly as he leapt from his seat.  “The Clean Source?  You’re out of your fucking mind!  Now listen here.  I’m going to make a deal for some of the E-4’s and E-5’s that you have, and there better be a good deal because you’re making me nervous with your antsy behavior.  I don’t like dealing with damn amateurs.”

“Amateur!  Why you lousy little Back End rat!  You don’t even know what it is I have here!  You want E-5’s?!  Don’t you know what these are?”  He yanked an E-9 out of his coat pocket and shoved it under Cygnus’ nose.

Both Corvus and Cygnus reached out to push his hand down.

“Don’t go flashing those things around here!” Cygnus hissed.  “This is a public park on a Clean Source planet!  Everything has a camera on it!”

The man pulled back and put a hand on one of his guns.  Corvus had one of her .45’s against his temple before he had it out of the holster.  She probably should have shot him right there, but she hesitated for fear of drawing too much attention.  The hesitation allowed the man to get his gun out and into Cygnus’ gut.  The three of them stood stock still for a moment.  Then Cygnus waved a hand up and down.

“Everyone calm down.  We’re here to make a sale, yes?  I want some E-4’s and E-5’s and am willing to pay top credit if they’re in good shape and have pure powder in them.  I know you’ve got some E-9’s, but I don’t need or want them.  Let’s just all back off.  Make a quick sale and get out of here before the cops show up.”

Still nobody moved.  Cygnus looked at Corvus.  He gave her a slight nod.  Corvus didn’t trust the man at all and had a sick feeling in her gut that if she moved her gun from his head she was going to lose her brother, but they had gotten this far in life by trusting one another.  So she slowly pulled the gun away, but didn’t lower the barrel, and kept her eyes on the trigger of the man’s gun.  His finger relaxed a little, and so Corvus responded by slightly dipping the barrel of her gun.  The man removed his gun from her brother’s gut.  They all took about three paces back and breathed out a little of their tension.

“My apologies,” the man sneered as he holstered his gun.  “I do get a little antsy on Clean Source planets.  Can’t trust nobody, you know?”

“I understand,” said Cygnus.  “Let me check the powder in those E-4’s you have.  Corvus, keep an eye out, yeah?”

She made a face, but turned to lean on the bench and crossed her arms over her chest.  She scanned the park as her brother and his source discussed the quality of the goods.  The haggling took longer than she was comfortable with.  She hadn’t seen a single person since the man had joined them, but that made her more uneasy.  At last she heard the grumbled agreements on both sides as to quantity and price.  That was a good sign.  If both parties were unhappy, it was a fair deal.

“So, I can pack them in a box and hide them with a grocery shipment.  It’ll be under Tybx eggs.”

“Sounds good.  Have them sent to the Blank down at the docks.  And you saw I put a hold on the credit transfer.  If the quality isn’t as good as these you showed me here, I’ll cancel the payment.”

“Don’t you worry.  You’re getting the better end of this deal.  Now you said, the what?”

“The Blank.”

“Are you serious?”

Cygnus shrugged.  “That’s what it’s called.  What our captain told us is that when he was registering the ship he told the official to leave the name blank so he could fill it in later, but the moron wrote “Blank” on the form.”

The man snorted.  “Typical moronic Clean Source.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So, what name should I attention it to?”

“Req.”

“Req?”

The man’s tone got Corvus’ attention.  She turned with her hand on the hilt of a gun.  The man reached out and grabbed Cygnus by his shirt.

“ _Solaris_ Req?” the man growled excitedly.

The twins exchanged looks.

“No,” said Cygnus.  “Columba Req.  Out of Piris in the Resort System.”

The man smiled wickedly.  “I know someone who wouldn’t want to take the chance.”

Before the man could activate the spring dart hidden under his sleeve, Corvus pulled her weapon and blew off half his head.  The man spun sideways and fell instantly, his twitching fingers still caught up in Cygnus’ shirt.  Cygnus shrugged him off and the man flopped to the ground, a large bright red puddle splashing across the green grass and light tan pebbles of the footpath.  Cygnus looked at her.

“Thanks, sis.”

“No problem.”

“I wonder what that was about.  I mean, I know Solaris has caused some problems for people before, but I’ve never met anyone who really wanted to kill him.”

“We should probably ask him about that.”

“Nm.”

“Freeze!  Drop your weapons!  Hands on your heads!  On your knees!”

The twins knew better than to turn and look at who was yelling at them.  Corvus dropped her gun to the ground with some difficulty; a gun shouldn’t be mistreated like that.  Then she and Cygnus slowly put their hands to their heads and sunk even slower to their knees.  In a matter of seconds they were face first in the dirt with a sharp knee in the middle of their backs.  The Clean Source Officers began cuffing their hands roughly.  Then they snapped arm restraints on them, clamping their arms together from elbow to wrist—subsequently wrenching their shoulders to the point that if they struggled too much a shoulder might pop out of joint.

“What’s with the rough treatment?” Cygnus asked.  “We’re not terrorists!”

“What in the Galaxy did he just say?” Cygnus’ arresting officer asked Corvus’.

Corvus spoke slowly, “Why are you arresting us?”

“Why?  Crazy bird.  For murder.  And you’re under suspicion of terrorist activities.  There are E-9’s everywhere!”

“We are heroes then!  We shot the guy trying to sell them!  We were setting him up to turn him in, but he got nervous and pulled a gun on us.”

“What’d she say?” the other officer asked.

“Something about not being one of the bad guys.”  He pulled Corvus to her feet and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as her shoulder slid to the limits of its socket.  “We’ll see about that, honey.  Tell it to the judge.”

“Yeah, sometime next month when his schedule opens up,” the other officer laughed as he put Cygnus on his feet.  Then he got a look at the hardware strapped around his waist.  “Great Tethys.  Were you planning an assault on a tybx warren?”

“You know,” said Corvus’ officer as the twins were led from the park, “We might be able to get you an earlier date with the judge.  If you’re interested.”

He slapped her ass hard and then grabbed it with a meaty hand.

Cygnus sighed.  “Great.  If that’s what it takes to see a judge, we’re gonna die in jail.”


End file.
